


A Snowball's Chance

by Janieshi



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, How Do I Tag, Huddling For Warmth, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, plot holes abound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2011-03-02
Packaged: 2019-08-09 06:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieshi/pseuds/Janieshi
Summary: 'Listen, Edward,' she began. 'This is going to be a little bit uncomfortable, but...'Judging by the set of his jaw, he knew exactly where this was headed. He was a genius, after all.





	1. The Cave

Edward swore, creatively, and Lieutenant Hawkeye had to bite back a laugh. Despite the seriousness of their current situation, that boy just made her want to smile. 

The teenager picked himself up off of the ground where he’d fallen, brushing the excess snow from his knees and grumbling under his breath. Hawkeye shifted Mustang’s right arm a little tighter around her neck, compensating for the sudden lack of Edward’s support. The colonel wasn’t really _that_ heavy, but the deadweight of an unconscious man was an awkward burden for a petite woman to bear alone.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Ed mumbled, grabbing for Mustang’s left side again. “Damn this ice!”

“It’s all right, Edward. Look, we’re nearly there,” she tilted her chin to gesture toward the mountainside. They had spotted an opening in the sheer rock face that had looked promising from the road far below. After the arduous hike up the icy path, they both prayed the cave would be large enough to fit the three of them inside, out of the swiftly falling snow.

“Right,” Ed nodded, and his golden eyes shone with determination.

Hawkeye knew he had been hit, and hard, during the fight, but had no way to check how seriously he had been injured until they got to shelter. She couldn’t see any blood, though, so that was comforting. If he was in any pain at the moment, he was hiding it well, but he seemed to be walking rather stiffly, like his automail was not quite functioning properly. She hoped it was just due to the cold and not indicative of a serious injury...The first aid kit they’d brought along was rather limited, and she sincerely doubted there was anything in it for automail repair.

The two limped on, half dragging Mustang between them, who moaned softly when jostled but still did not wake. Hawkeye could hear Al’s faintly clanging footsteps on the path below them; he had taken less time than she’d thought, and she hoped that was a good sign. 

Finally, the cave opening was before them. It looked fairly large, although it was hard to see clearly in the gathering darkness. 

“Let me check it out first, Edward. Can you look after the colonel for a moment, please?”

Without waiting for an answer, Hawkeye slipped away from Mustang’s side, drawing a gun from her holster and approaching the cave mouth cautiously. She moved slowly, squinting in the failing light, examining the interior of the cave to ensure nothing, and no one, lay in wait for them. The cave was deeper than it looked, but she was able to ascertain that it was empty in less than thirty seconds. 

“All right, we’re clear,” she called over her shoulder. Edward was closer than she’d thought, having inched forward with the colonel while her back was turned.The look of concern on his face seemed to indicate that he didn’t like the idea of letting her out of his sight. When she turned to face him, though, he quickly assumed a slightly bored look. Again, Hawkeye bit back a chuckle. The kid prided himself on being a master of deception, and yet he wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“At least we’ll all fit inside,” he grumbled as Hawkeye helped him lower Mustang gently to the ground inside. “But we’ll freeze to death in this cold anyway if Al doesn’t scavenge any of the supplies from what’s left of the car.” 

“I actually heard him coming just a moment ago; he sounded like he was pretty close behind us. So whatever our chances are, we will know shortly…” Hawkeye trailed off, looking down at the defenseless colonel in her arms.

Ed smirked.

“Don’t worry Lieutenant; the bastard’s much too stubborn to let such a stupid injury keep him down for long.  He’s only been unconscious for a few minutes, really. I bet he’ll wake up once all the work is done, just you watch. ” Hawkeye smiled wanly up at him, already running her hands through Mustang’s hair to feel for the lump she knew was there.

Leaving Mustang to Hawkeye’s capable hands, Ed headed back outside to gather some kindling for a fire. (Limping, Hawkeye noted.) The mountainside was in a rather heavily wooded area, and he returned a few minutes later with a huge armful of (mostly) dry branches. 

While Ed coaxed a tiny flame from the damp wood, Hawkeye focused on getting Mustang’s soaking wet outer clothes off of him.

In addition to the snow caked on the outside of their clothes, slowly melting with their own body heat, they had to contend with the now-cold sweat left on their skin from their earlier altercation, and so Hawkeye was more than a little concerned about hypothermia. Especially given that the snow outside showed no signs of slowing, and the temperature was steadily dropping.  Being half-naked next to the struggling fire had to be better than sitting in clothes that were wet through, she reasoned. And Al would be here soon, with the blankets from the emergency kits, and hopefully with the extra clothes in their luggage. 

Given Mustang’s completely limp body, removing his clothing was harder to do than she had thought, but Hawkeye was nothing if not efficient. She soon had him down to just an undershirt and boxers, both of which were slightly damp, but not nearly as bad as his outer clothes. Wringing his jacket and pants out as best she could, Hawkeye then handed the clothes off to Ed to hang near the now merrily crackling (though still woefully small) fire. He had managed to create a clothesline of some kind when she wasn’t looking, and already had his signature red coat draped over it. 

She eyed him, appraisingly.

“I don’t suppose you can use alchemy to get the water out of these clothes, can you?”

“Nah. I mean, I could try, but since the water is not actually part of the makeup of the material, it would be a pain in the ass trying to do it without ruining the clothes. And I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t light something on fire…Best not to risk it, when they will dry by the fire without too much effort,” he said, unintentionally revealing how just exhausted he was.  Mentioning the effort that went into an alchemical reaction told her as much, and she furrowed her brow in concern. Al chose that moment to make his appearance.

“I, uh, I brought the things I could salvage from the car, Lieutenant,” he said shyly, pausing just inside the entrance.

“Thank you, Alphonse. Did any of our clothing make it?” she smiled up at him hopefully. His face fell.

“I’m sorry!” he cried out, sounding distressed. “Brother’s bag was alright, and most of the stuff from Colonel Mustang’s, and—and here’s the survival kit with the emergency rations and blankets…” he trailed off. “But…but almost all the things in your bag were destroyed, Lieutenant. Those icicles went right through it, and this was all I could save.” He held out a pathetic little bundle of cloth. Her spare clothes were totally shredded.  But her little cosmetics bag, which held little more than a toothbrush and some spare unmentionables, had survived intact. She accepted the small bundle from him gratefully enough. 

“It’s all right, Alphonse. I can make do with this,” she said as she fished one of the colonel’s shirts out of his battered duffel bag, which Al in his consternation had dropped at her feet. She was sure the colonel wouldn’t mind.

Somewhat mollified, Al turned to hand Edward his things. While they were distracted, Hawkeye stripped off her own wet clothes, quickly pulling on the shirt she’d filched from Mustang. It wasn’t much, but at least it was dry. Geez, it was freezing in here. She edged closer to the little fire, stretching out her hands over it. Meanwhile Ed was changing into his spare clothes as quickly as humanly possible, and Hawkeye watched him surreptitiously to check for any obvious injuries.  His leg seemed to be in poor shape, as he was allowing Al to help him dress, leaning heavily against his little brother for balance.

Aside from the minor cuts and bruises she’d expected, though, he looked fine. Winry would be pissed about his battered automail, but at least he wasn't seriously injured.   

Hawkeye, hands on hips, turned back around and studied the colonel again. She’d glanced him over while undressing him, but found nothing more alarming than the head wound they’d already known about.  He may very well have a concussion, and as he had not regained consciousness, she was starting to worry about him. His pupils dilated at the same rate when she gently peeled back his eyelids, though, and she couldn’t exactly ask him questions until he woke. All she could really do at the moment was keep him warm and dry, and hope for the best.  Re-dressing him would prove more difficult than undressing him had been, she knew. 

Just as she was about to ask the boys for some assistance, Al thumped Ed lightly on the back and headed outside again, presumably for more firewood. Ed sighed softly, and then came back towards Hawkeye and Mustang.

“Need a hand with that, lieutenant?” he said flippantly, eyeing his superior officer.   

As Ed plumped down on the floor next to the colonel, he glanced up at Hawkeye, who was pulling Mustang’s extra things out of the bag. Suddenly noticing her state of undress, Ed choked on his tongue and promptly turned scarlet.  

On the inside, Hawkeye was rolling on the floor laughing hysterically at his facial expression. But she kept her composure, and coolly handed him Mustang’s spare pants. Well aware that Mustang’s white dress shirt exposed more of her body than young Ed had ever seen, she was not exactly surprised to see the blush suffuse his cheeks. Perhaps she should have buttoned the shirt up a few more buttons, she mused as they set to work.

Ed studiously avoided looking at her as they struggled to tug the dry clothing onto Mustang’s limp body, his cheeks still glowing. 

Oh, if only Mustang were awake to appreciate this situation. He’d get a kick out of the teen’s embarrassment for sure; probably tease the poor kid for weeks. Hawkeye was used to thinking of herself as one of the guys, so she really had no issue standing there in very little more than her skivvies.  (Well, aside from the fact that she was freezing, of course.  But there was no way she’d sleep in Mustang’s spare boxer shorts—that was just far too intimate for her to contemplate right now. ) Her other male comrades had seen her in less, at least twice. But Edward was still such an innocent and not nearly as accustomed to military life as they all were, what with the communal showers in the barracks and the conditions in the camps during war. Modesty had no place on the battlefield.   

No doubt Mustang’s face would be just as red as Ed’s was now, though, if he knew what Hawkeye was _planning_ to do. 

But before she could broach the topic, Ed had leapt up and grabbed for his battered suitcase again.  He was rummaging frantically through it, face still faintly pink, when Al walked back in, carrying about a cord of wood in each arm.  

To his credit, the younger Elric did nothing more than squeak inarticulately when he spotted her, although he quickly busied himself with building up the fire while carefully keeping his eyes trained on anything but Hawkeye’s bare legs. Really, these boys, Hawkeye smirked behind their backs. Their concern for her modesty was both endearing and amusing.

“Here,” Ed said suddenly, and he shoved something at Hawkeye, eyes still averted. With some surprise, she found herself holding a pair of soft pajama pants. “They should fit you okay, since you’re…almost the same height as me,” he mumbled, carefully avoiding the “s” word. Hawkeye was both touched and amused at his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you, Edward,” she smiled softly at him and quickly pulled the pants on, to the relief of both Elrics. They were light-colored cotton pajama bottoms, and she realized with a start why Ed always wore dark clothes when she spotted the automail oil stains on one pant leg. Not that she gave a damn about a few oil marks; it was sweet of Ed to offer them up at all. 

Ed held up one of the emergency bedrolls with an expression of distaste.

“This is it?  How is this flimsy thing supposed to keep anyone warm?” Riza smiled and took it from him.

“It’s the material it’s made of, Edward.  They are designed to keep the damp out on this side, see?” she pointed to the oilskin-like black cloth on the bottom, and then flipped it over.  “And then the inside part is supposed to trap and reflect body heat,” she pointed to the shiny silvery material.  “Between them is a special insulated material that prevents the heat from escaping.  It’s more efficient than regular blankets, and lighter to carry in these emergency packs because it folds up so small.”

“Neat!” cried Al, who had been listening to her intently.  Ed rolled his eyes, but still smiled at his little brother’s enthusiasm.

Hawkeye unrolled one of the bedrolls, nudged Mustang onto it with Ed’s help, and then contemplated the situation. She knew what they would have to do, and she also knew Ed was not going to like it. Come to think of it, Roy probably wouldn’t be all that thrilled either once he woke.

“Listen, Edward,” she began, “This is going to be a little uncomfortable, but…” Ed looked up from the fire, where he had been adding more wood. Judging by the set of his jaw, he knew exactly where this was headed. He was a genius, after all.

“I know. We’ll freeze otherwise, and it’s not like we can afford to be shy.” He sighed as he rose, rubbing his shoulder port with his good arm and looking incredibly young for a split second. Then he met her eyes, that familiar look of determination glowing out of the depths, and said “I get his back." This time, Riza couldn’t hold back the laughter.

Al looked from one to the other, completely lost.


	2. What Dreams May Come

Al stationed himself at the mouth of the cave, keeping watch over the three sleeping occupants while the snow fell silently outside. It’s not like he had anything better to do at night anyway. Glancing back inside, where his older brother slept back to back with Colonel Roy Mustang, who in turn was spooned up against one Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, he could only smile. 

Hawkeye’s voice disturbed his wandering thoughts.

“Alphonse? I’m sorry to ask, and I would do it myself if I could, but,” and here she wriggled a little against Mustang, who made a soft noise of refusal in his sleep and tightened his arm around her middle. She sighed and gave up. “Could you please add a bit more wood to the fire?”

“Oh! Of course, Lieutenant!  Here,” always eager to please, Al leapt to his feet and clanged over to the wood pile. “Are you guys doing okay?  I—I can’t feel the cold, so I can’t really tell how bad it is…” Hawkeye interrupted him before he could work himself into a frenzy.

“We’ll be just fine, thank you Alphonse.” She shifted slightly, pressing her back flush against Mustang’s warm chest, and carefully tugging his arm a little higher on her waist.  On his other side, Edward was curled up like a cat. He’d been very careful about the placement of his ice cold metal limbs to ensure that neither one would touch sensitive skin.  One of Hawkeye’s shredded shirts made him a decent enough pillow, and he slept soundly in spite of the noise Al made stoking up the fire.

Colonel Mustang moaned softly and stirred. As Ed had predicted, Mustang had in fact woken up after all the work was finished, and proved he wasn’t brain damaged by answering a few questions and making an inappropriate comment involving  Riza’s legs in particular and the vital importance of mini-skirts in general. Though he wasn’t exactly turning cartwheels about it, he had also approved Hawkeye’s plan for their sleeping arrangements.   

Sort of.

Actually, his exact words had been: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” but he was exhausted and in no position to oppose both an angry child prodigy and a strong-willed woman with a gun. 

After arguing for about five minutes with Edward (whose “What? You think we want to cuddle with you for our own sick _amusement_ , ya self-absorbed, egotistical pervert?!” comment had finally left Roy speechless), Roy had given in and allowed himself to be tucked in between the other two. He had fallen back asleep almost the moment his head touched his makeshift pillow (the remains of Riza’s favorite gray skirt). Ed had quickly followed suit, curling up back to back with his superior officer, but Hawkeye had been lying awake and listening to them breathe ever since. Every time Mustang moaned in his sleep, she tensed and fought the urge to wake him. She knew his nightmares were worse when he was extremely tired. 

Once the fire was roaring again, Al trudged back to the mouth of the cave, softly bidding the Lieutenant a good night. Riza curled one hand around Roy’s wrist. With his pulse beating steadily against her cold fingers, she drifted into a troubled sleep.

Riza woke with a start, completely disoriented. 

"Where the _hell_ -? Whose arm is-?  Oh."

Of course. The cave. No wonder her whole body ached. 

She sat up carefully, gently moving the colonel's arm off of her waist. She couldn’t figure out what had woken her, aside from the horribly uncomfortable rocks she was trying to sleep on. Rubbing one hand across her eyes, she looked around. 

Al was nowhere to be seen, and judging from the diminished pile of wood beside the still glowing fire, she assumed he had slipped out to gather a bit more. Considerate of him. Although it was still very cold, the fire was definitely helping matters...and then she heard a whimper.  A small painful sound of distress that cut straight to her heart. She looked sharply at Roy, but his face looked serene, if a bit too pale for her liking. She glanced over at Ed next, but he was still curled in a tight ball, his chest rising and falling steadily. Then the small sound came again, followed closely by a murmured word this time, one that sounded suspiciously like "Hawkeye." 

Looking down at Roy's face again, she saw that his handsome features had contorted into a grimace of pain.  Concerned, Riza carefully settled back down in a kneeling position at his side.   

"Shh. Wake up, sir. Everything's all right, you're safe." Which was at least partially true—they were safe for the time being at least. At the sound of her voice, he made a soft noise in the back of his throat, the frown lines smoothing out for a split second before returning.  

"Not her," he whispered, sounding terrified. "No...I promised...please!" What on earth was he dreaming about? Riza had woken him from enough nightmares of Ishval to know it wasn't one of the usual recurring ones he had of the war. This one sounded...more personal.

Praying Edward wouldn't hear anything, she gently shook Roy's shoulder, hoping to wake him without embarrassing him. He didn't need to know how much she'd heard or guessed. They had an unspoken agreement not to discuss their nightmares; an agreement that dated from the one night they _had_ talked about them, just after the war.  The night they'd gotten more intoxicated than either had ever been before, and...well, best not to think of that night right now.

Hopefully Al would take his time in getting back, she thought as she glanced around the cave again. Roy murmured again, something about too much blood...and then she heard him call her name. Damn.  So it was about her. He twitched, whimpered again, and reflexively gripped her arm. More urgently now, she shook his shoulder.

"Colonel. Colonel Mustang! ROY!  Come on, wake up!" She was still speaking in a whisper, almost directly into his ear, worried lest Edward should wake. With a jerk, his dark eyes flew open suddenly, his left hand latching onto her arm with an intensity that frightened her. 

"Lieutenant?" he murmured, his voice thick and heavy with sleep. A series of emotions flashed over his face, from the initial wide eyed fear, to relieved recognition, to...something soft she couldn't quite identify. He sat up, eyes locked onto her face. "You're okay?" he asked earnestly. 

"I should be asking you that...I think you were having a nightmare," she said carefully, unwilling to reveal that she mostly knew what it was about. He stiffened. And then, realizing that he was still holding her arm in a death grip, he gently released her. 

"I'm sorry.  I-I didn't mean to hurt you..." his fingers ghosted across her wrist, where she would probably have a nasty bruise later. A shudder ran down his frame, and he covered his face with one hand, hiding his eyes. Tentatively, she touched his shoulder again, worried.

"Roy?"  Hawkeye rarely, if ever, called him by his first name, a habit she’d retained from childhood, when her father insisted that she address his students formally, and vice versa. Once in the military, she’d called him only by his rank, both as a way to show respect and to keep anyone from comprehending the extent of their past relationship.  And so hearing his name on her lips startled Mustang enough that he dropped his hand to look her full in the face again, revealing his overly bright eyes. 

Riza’s heart tripped in her chest.  Was he…was he crying? No. Not quite, but he seemed to be close to it. He shivered, and then slowly, as though afraid she would refuse him, he reached out for her, gathered her into his arms, and buried his face into her neck. He drew several shuddering breaths against her, and she began to run her hands up and down his back, quietly shhing and its-ok-ing him. She pressed her lips to his hair, looking up just in time to meet a pair of surprised golden eyes.  

Before Hawkeye could even think how to react, Edward gave her a deeply significant look, those lovely golden eyes full of sympathy, and then he very deliberately rolled back over, offering them what limited privacy he could. A wave of warmth enveloped her as she understood what his actions meant.

Roy calmed down after another brief moment, and he nuzzled her neck one last time, and then pulled back reluctantly. She could hear Al's clanging steps approaching again, and squeezed his hand gently.

"It's nearly dawn now, sir.  We should try and get a bit more rest while we can," she whispered. 

He nodded, understanding that she was not going to question him about the dream unless he wanted her to. He cautiously lowered himself back against Ed, who snuggled against his warmth and sighed as though still deeply asleep. Riza smiled softly, and then curled into Roy's chest again, facing him this time, her head resting on his outstretched arm. The proximity would comfort him, she knew, and she certainly had no objection to being held close, although her heart was pounding wildly. 

He would probably never speak of the details, but the dream had clearly been about her, and probably involved her gruesome death from the way he had reacted. The way he held her now, more intimately than he had dared to do since Ishval, was proof of just how shaken he had been.  

All three feigned sleep as Al approached and quietly added more branches to the fire.  He made a soft "aww" sound when he saw Mustang and his Lieutenant entwined in each other’s arms, clasping his hands together in delight, and it was all Riza could do not to blush. Al stooped to gently rearrange the blankets over all three of them, tucking in the edges and nudging Ed a bit closer to Roy with a practiced hand. Riza watched him carefully through her lashes, adoring him, as he very softly brushed Ed's blond hair away from his face with brightly glowing eyes.  God, she loved these two boys.

 With Roy's breath warm on her hair, Riza dropped into sleep a few minutes later, still brooding over the events that brought them to this cold, damp cave.


	3. Two Days Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, How They Got Into This Mess

"This coffee tastes terrible," Mustang growled, glaring down at the ceramic mug in his hand. 

"That's because it's tea, sir," Hawkeye answered lightly, glancing up from her desk.

"Oh… and why is it tea, Lieutenant?" he squinted at the hot liquid again, perturbed. He must be more tired than he'd thought if he’d managed to confuse the two drinks. He clearly needed additional stores of caffeine in order to function properly. As she often did, Hawkeye responded to his thoughts rather than his words. 

"You shouldn't have any more caffeine at this hour, sir," she replied, calmly arranging something on her desk. It was uncanny, really, how well she could read him. “I brought you some herbal tea instead of more coffee; there’s no caffeine in it.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then realized she had an excellent point. If he drank any more, he’d never be able to sleep tonight. Not that he minded napping at his desk in the middle of the day, but _Hawkeye_ would mind. So he'd end up drinking even more coffee tomorrow to avoid her wrath (and her perfect marksmanship), thus thwarting a decent night’s sleep for the second night, and the cycle would continue, or start all over again, or whatever. 

Sighing, he accepted defeat and sniffed at the cup she'd placed on his desk a few moments earlier. Oranges? No, lemons. And something vaguely floral. Hm. 

"I can assure you it's not poisoned, sir. I made it myself," Hawkeye said dryly, watching him with an amused expression on her normally stern face.

"Hm?  Oh,” and he laughed a little when his mind caught up. “Yes, I suppose if you wanted to assassinate me, you'd just shoot me, wouldn't you?" he mused, still staring at the cup in his hands.  What was that floral scent?  Jasmine? No, it wasn’t as sweetly floral as that…Hibiscus, maybe? Yes, that had to be it. He took a cautious sip, savoring the unusual taste. It was pretty good, considering it wasn’t coffee.

Hawkeye smiled indulgently but did not respond. They both knew the answer to that particular question.

She turned back to the window to peer out at the gathering darkness, cupping her cold hands around her own steaming mug of tea. The fog was rolling in; they should leave pretty soon regardless of how much paperwork was left to do today. She was not looking forward to driving home without being able to see farther than three feet in front of her headlights. 

She must have sighed audibly, because Mustang looked up sharply. He could read her as well as she him, after all.

"We almost done here, Lieutenant?" As the sun had long since set, there was no longer any natural light streaming through the windows. The fluorescent overhead lights made the dark circles under his tired eyes even more prominent, she noted.  He needed to get out of here and get some rest.

"Yes, sir. That file there is the last one that needs your attention today," she indicated the fat folder on the top of his stack of papers. He nodded absently and began to leaf through it, stifling a yawn.

Hawkeye doubted he was even reading what he'd signed. She'd have to look over it before she turned it in and make sure he wasn't committing himself to anything he would regret later. She'd once caught Havoc trying to slip through an approval to hold an all-female-cadet “special training session” that would have ended badly for both of them if she hadn't _accidentally_  shredded the papers before a general saw them. She’d known that Mustang hadn’t realized what he’d signed based on the lack of emotion on his part when the papers hit the blades. He’d looked vaguely confused, seen the coolness of her demeanor and then simply shrugged one shoulder, trusting that she knew what she was doing. She usually did.

“Hey, wait a…what’s this?” he paused and actually focused on the papers in his hands when a word caught his attention. Hawkeye crossed the room to stand behind him so she could read over his shoulder, her breath warm on his neck as she leaned in.

“They want to send you on a field mission? Whose daughter did you attempt to seduce this time, sir? I think you’re being punished for your cheek,” she smirked. He elbowed her in the side, lightly.

“Ha.  Don’t look so amused; if I have to go, I’m taking you with me. And they know I can’t function without you, so none of the higher ups will argue with that…and this guy actually looks kind of dangerous.” His joking tone turned serious as his eyes scanned further down the page. “Sounds like he makes trouble for the locals if they don’t do whatever he says…why on earth would they even want me to recruit a bully like this?”

“Recruit him, sir?” Hawkeye was still a paragraph behind.

“Yeah…we’re supposed to track him down based on these rumors, and then determine whether his talent is just amateur stuff or military grade. Says they think he specializes in water manipulation, most especially ice...just like that deserter McDougal, remember him?  The Freezing Alchemist? I suppose they miss having a water specialist in the ranks.  Anyway, if he has real talent, then they want him, if at all possible. We’re not just finding him, but…well, _wooing_ him.”

“They haven’t sent you to do one of those since…” she trailed off, meeting his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Since our very own child prodigy, the Fullmetal Alchemist.”  He snorted. “And considering the accuracy of _that_ initial report, perhaps we ought to prepare for the worst.  In fact, maybe we should bring another few men along, so we can split up into pairs if necessary…”  He perked up a bit as he finished reading the file, shuffling papers, sketching out a rough plan in his mind, while signing in all the appropriate places. 

By the time he was done with his tea, the papers were ready to turn in, and they were ready to leave. 

Mustang stood, swaying a bit as his little second wind faded.  Hawkeye was at his side before he so much as stumbled, steadying him both literally and figuratively, as per usual. He left his hand on her shoulder just a moment longer than strictly necessary, drawing strength from her presence.

“Come on, sir. Let’s get you home before you pass out from exhaustion and I have to physically drag you up your apartment stairs.”  Mustang snickered at the mental image, but pulled himself together. As he led the way out of the office, Hawkeye spoke up again.

“Have you considered assigning Fullmetal to this mission? He was asking for permission to head to Resembool just a few days ago. Apparently he’s due for some routine maintenance on his leg,” Hawkeye said, allowing Mustang to help her with her coat.

“Routine maintenance, yeah right,” Mustang snorted derisively, locking the office door behind them. “He probably just wants to prove that he’s capable of turning up on his cute blonde mechanic’s doorstep without having both of his metal limbs in tiny little pieces. Did you know she whacks him over the head with a wrench whenever he breaks his automail?”

“He’s started bringing gifts to distract her, now. Last I heard, it was jewelry. Earrings, I think Alphonse said,” Hawkeye grinned, and Mustang laughed aloud.

 “Smart kid! Although I would think tools would be a better choice than jewelry for _that_ girl…But, wait. I still don’t see what Resembool has to do with this mission, Lieutenant.”

“Well, the town we’ll be checking out isn’t too far away from there; just a little farther north.  If we took Edward along on the mission and then made a stop at the Rockbell place on our way back, it'd save some travel time and expense,” Hawkeye opened the car door for him, and slid behind the wheel. “Just a thought, sir. Two birds. One stone.” 

“Hm.” Roy leaned his head back against the cold leather headrest, considering.

Hotel rooms weren't cheap, and Fullmetal’s expense reports were becoming infamous in accounting. Both Elrics were capable enough for this mission (because you didn’t send Ed somewhere without his little brother following on his heels, military secret or not).  And Mustang had been meaning to check in on their progress anyway.

“Actually, that’s a good idea, Hawkeye.  Think I can leave Havoc in charge for a few days?”

“As long as Breda takes care of the paper work, it should be fine.  Jean isn’t much good with deadlines. Reminds me of someone else I know,” she said slyly, shooting him a sideways glance.  He had closed his eyes, but he still smirked at her comment, proving he was still listening. “We’re here, sir.” She pulled to a stop in front of his building.

“You know I hate it when you drop me off first,” he sat up, grumbling sleepily and glaring out the window.

“You’re in no condition to drive yourself home, sir. You’d only fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Huh.  Touché.”  He yawned. “All right, fine. Then call me when you’ve gotten home, please. I really don’t like the thought of you driving around all alone in all this fog,” he started to climb out of the car, but paused to add:  “Oh, and call Fullmetal in for a meeting in the morning, would you, Riza?  We’ll brief the boys and then leave the day after tomorrow.” 

She didn’t bother correcting him. He was so careful to call her only by her rank or surname in the office or in any other professional setting…but when they were alone he occasionally slipped up and called her by her given name.  She didn’t mind half so much as she pretended to, and he knew it.  Instead, she just nodded.

“Yes, sir, I will.  Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Riza.”  And he watched her taillights fade into the fog.

* * *

They’d split up as soon as they’d arrived in the small town of Lund, and agreed to meet up after a few hours at a popular café. The colonel was very clear that if anyone ran into trouble, they were to signal for the others, and not try to engage their quarry alone, just in case he turned out to be dangerous. 

All three of the others rolled their eyes, though for very different reasons: Hawkeye because she knew Roy would be in more danger than any of them as a Flame Alchemist battling a man whose affinity was water; Ed because he was tired of being treated like a child; and Al because he was imagining the sort of obnoxious “signal” Ed would be likely to use if it became necessary. It was a fairly small town, so any sounds of a fight, be they gunshots or alchemic reactions, would draw the attention of the others pretty quickly  in any case.  

After several hours of trying to both casually question the locals and stay incognito, it became clear that they were not going to learn anything in this place. The few people that had seemed willing to talk openly with strangers had not been very helpful, and simply changed the subject whenever the topic had approached alchemy. None of them even seemed to have heard of the Snowball Alchemist (as Roy had taken to calling their mystery man). Most of the townspeople acted almost nervous, looking over their shoulders and talking loudly of the upcoming winter festivals or some other equally random topic when they were approached.

“Well this has been pretty pointless,” Mustang growled, squirming in the hard wooden chair. 

Hawkeye calmly sipped her tea, somehow managing to look both totally innocent and completely harmless. In her civilian clothes, with long blonde hair worn loose over her shoulders, no one would ever suspect that she was a formidable adversary who had three weapons concealed on her person. Possibly four, if Mustang thought seriously about it. Which he shouldn’t do right now, as he needed to remain focused. He shook his head and huffed out a breath. 

“We still don’t know a thing about this guy, and apparently neither to any of the people in this town,” he added.

“Do you think the tip was a false lead, sir?” Hawkeye said quietly, eyes on the door, carefully scanning anyone who entered the café. 

Outside the window, she could see Al practically quivering in delight over a cardboard box in the arms of a little girl. Kittens, she would bet her entire salary on it. Ed stood a few feet away, stern and disapproving. She could probably recite the entire argument on why Al could not bring one home from memory, having heard it so often.

“Hmm.  Hard to say," Mustang replied. "I’m not used to being stonewalled quite like this. I mean, with the Elrics we were way off on the _ages_ , but the talent was certainly there.  I would have thought there would be some hint of the truth with all the rumors we’d heard about this one…” he trailed off, deep in thought.  Just as Ed dragged Al bodily away from the girl and her box of warm fuzzies, Mustang sighed. “There is something off about this place, but we don’t have any hard evidence of anything suspicious. I think we’re wasting our time. We should report back soon and have them send in investigators from Central rather than recruiters. ”

Hawkeye agreed, as did the Elrics once they’d been brought up to speed. Or rather, Al agreed while Ed grumbled that since there was obviously something odd going on here, then they should stay and find out what it was. Only when Mustang threatened—er, _offered_ to call in Major Armstrong to assist in his place did Ed relent and agree to let it go for the time being.  

As they rose to leave the café, Mustang reached into his coat pocket for his gloves, and froze.

“What is it, sir?” Hawkeye’s urgent whisper stopped Ed and Al in their tracks as well.  

Mustang pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, frowned at it, and then slowly unfolded it. His eyes flashed, and he stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Not here,” he said shortly, and led the way outside.

He walked quickly for a few blocks, flicking his eyes left and right, to be sure no one was following them. His three curious companions close on his heels, he finally darted down an alleyway. Once they had gathered around him, he pulled out the folded paper and passed it to his lieutenant.

“Beware the man you seek,” she read aloud, and examined the crude drawing of a map next to it.  “Looks like the road leading up to the mountains. Hmm.” She passed it to Ed and Al, who bent over it eagerly. “So shall I get the car, sir?”

After some deliberation, the four had piled back into the car and taken the road that the map had indicated, up into the snow covered mountains several miles to the north of Lund. 

* * *

 

They'd traveled up the winding road in companionable silence.  Ed dozed in the backseat against his little brother, who was reading some alchemy tome of obnoxious size.  Hawkeye was at the wheel, and Colonel Mustang stared out of the window at the snowy mountains around them, lost in thought.   

When she'd spotted the wave of snow and rocks rushing at them out of the corner of her eye, Hawkeye had assumed it was a landslide at first.  She'd stayed remarkably calm, successfully evaded it without running them off the road, and managed to bring them to a heart-stopping, skidding, spinning halt inches from the edge of the cliff. 

“Is everyone all right?” Mustang asked in a strained voice, rubbing his shoulder where it had slammed into the door. Then he leapt from the car without waiting for an answer, Hawkeye at his heels in the next heartbeat.  Ed and Al glanced quickly at each other, Ed’s eyes wide, Al’s bright, and then followed. Mustang was tense, looking around with narrowed eyes and gloves at the ready. Hawkeye, gun drawn, was about to ask him what he had seen when she heard the crackle of alchemic reaction around them. 

“Look out!” Al cried as he pulled his older brother out of the path of a monstrous wave of water that rose from the ground right in front of them. Hawkeye dove and rolled to one side, Mustang to the other. The sheet of water became spears of ice, which then impaled their car, lifting it several feet off the ground and rendering it useless as an escape route.

“It’s gotta be our guy.  I’m gonna step out on a limb here and guess he’s not a fan of the military,” Edward panted. 

“Looks like he set a trap for-”Mustang started to say.  Then all hell broke loose.  

Clouds of powdery snow had washed over all four of them, as razor sharp ice shards zipped out of the ground, followed by painfully solid balls of ice.  Al tried to shield Ed with his body at first, but the projectiles flew at them from all directions. Mustang snarled from a few feet away as some of the shards struck him, frustrated by his own uselessness.  With his gloves already soaked through, he was unable to produce sparks, and he was feeling much too vulnerable. All four were pretty much reduced to dodging in a matter of seconds. Crouched behind a rock shield that Al had thrown up, Hawkeye tried to analyze the pattern of attack, but could not figure out which direction the airborne ice-missiles were coming from. As Edward clapped his hands together to alchemize a counter attack of some sort, he caught a nasty blow to his automail leg and stumbled onto his knees, cursing. 

“Dammit, how the hell can he even see to attack us with all this snow in the air?!” he roared, diving again to avoid an ice spear. He landed beside Hawkeye, relatively safe behind Al’s shield.

Hawkeye was extremely irritated at the lack of visibility. How was she supposed to shoot someone she couldn’t see? She inched her head out from behind the shield, hoping to catch a glimpse of their assailant. The snow was swirling around them like a tornado, and she realized right then that if they couldn’t even see _each other_ in all this, then there was no chance someone on the outside could make any of them out. 

“I don’t think he can see us.” Hawkeye called out, nearly yelling to be heard over the wind.  “I think he’s firing at random; he’s bound to hit something eventually if he shoots enough of these things off.” At her voice, a sudden barrage of ice spears shot out and collapsed Al’s shield, forcing both Hawkeye and Ed to scramble back out into the open.

She nearly ran against Mustang, who had heard her call out and moved towards her voice. She passed him her firearm and drew another, knowing that he'd reached for his gloves rather than the gun he'd had in the glove compartment of the car. 

Neither saw the huge chunk of ice coming right at them until it was almost too late. It struck Mustang’s head with a sickening thud, just as he shoved Hawkeye out of its path.  He dropped like a stone, landing facedown into the slushy snow. Hawkeye cursed softly as she knelt beside him to check his pulse, heart in her throat.  Relief washed over her when she found it still beating steadily, but she blamed herself for not knocking him down before he had made the dive. Once he woke up, he would be in for a lecture on just who was supposed to be watching whose back in this little arrangement. 

As suddenly as it had started, the snow storm attack ceased. Their assailant had taken the chance that at least some of them were down to make a break for it. 

Ed and Hawkeye both cried out as they spotted a dark figure fleeing along the ridge above them. He was already too far out of Hawkeye’s range, although she squeezed off a few rounds anyway.

Staggering to his feet, Ed had joined her in the pursuit, calling out to Al to look after Mustang. But the guy was just too fast, and he was long gone before they had even climbed up the ridge. They could see now where he had been standing, and Ed reluctantly admitted the guy must have decent power to be able to direct such powerful attacks from that far away. 

“All right. We need to regroup, and I need to attend to Colonel Mustang’s head injury,” Hawkeye had taken charge briskly. Eyeing the darkening clouds above them, and the setting sun behind them, she added grimly, “Also, we must get ourselves to a safe shelter before nightfall.” As if in agreement, the wind suddenly picked up, causing both Hawkeye and Ed to shiver violently. 

“Yeah, the car’s useless with all those icicles through it,” agreed Ed, teeth chattering slightly.  “I’m pretty sure we could get it down without dropping it over the edge,” he said, eyeing it warily from their vantage point.  “But then, with that kind of damage to it…I’m no good at repairing engines and stuff like that. And I don’t know whether he’d be any help,” he gestured helplessly to the road below them, where Al was still kneeling beside the prone colonel.  awkeye wasn’t sure which of them he meant, but it was a moot point. She shook her head.

“We’ll have to leave it there for now,” she agreed. “How badly are you injured, Edward? Can you help me carry Colonel Mustang? Just to there?” And she had pointed out a cave that didn’t look too far away. 

So they'd set out with the colonel between them, leaving Al with the wrecked car to salvage whatever luggage and supplies he could.


	4. A White Blank Page

If it weren’t for the possessive way Roy was holding her when she woke the next morning, Hawkeye might have believed it had all been part of her own dream.  

He didn't speak, but ran one hand almost reverently through her tangled blonde hair before he released her. Clearing his throat, he stood a little awkwardly, trying to get up without waking Ed (and failing miserably). Once free from the subsequent tangle of legs and blankets, Mustang marched to the mouth of the cave to access their situation.

Hawkeye sat up as well, and chanced a look over at Edward, whose eyes burned into hers.

“Edward…” she paused, unsure of exactly how to ask this favor of him. 

An ordinary teenage boy might gleefully mock a grown man for having nightmares, but then Edward was not your average teenager. Given all that the young Elric brothers had experienced thus far, Hawkeye was certain that Edward dealt with his own personal demons on a regular basis.

“He was having a bad dream. Last night, I mean. Right?” His voice was solemn.

“Yes.” 

She didn’t elaborate. She really did not want to discuss Mustang's nightmares any further. Especially given that she starred in quite a few of them.

"You don't have to worry, Lieutenant,” Ed spoke up, anticipating her request. “I won’t say anything to the colonel about his nightmares," he promised, quietly enough to prevent Roy or Al from hearing him. She was both relieved and pleased to know that her judgment of his character was dead on. 

"Thank you, Edward.” Hawkeye’s voice was warm and husky with gratitude, and Ed rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly. “Dreams like those are a painful subject for the colonel.  I appreciate that you are willing to keep what you witnessed to yourself."  

She sensed the boy was not finished with the topic, though, as he was still watching her with those burning eyes. 

And she wondered whether he wanted to know, as everyone always did, what _exactly_ was the nature of Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye’s relationship with the Flame Alchemist?  Even their own team couldn’t always be sure about what went on between the colonel and his lieutenant. Checking to make sure Roy and Al were still talking, bent now over a map, Hawkeye added softly:

“The colonel and I have been friends for a very long time, Edward. Longer than anyone else in the military actually knows, aside from Maes Hughes. It's—it’s something like what you and Alphonse share with Miss Rockbell. Roy and I were close childhood friends."

Understanding lit Ed’s face, and he nodded decisively as though she had just confirmed something he had been thinking for a while. 

Too late, she remembered the not-so-secret crush Edward had on his pretty mechanic, and wondered whether she had just unintentionally confessed that she harbored complicated romantic feelings for Colonel Mustang to a fifteen-year-old boy. 

Edward was watching Mustang with a slightly appraising look, and as Hawkeye studied his profile, she decided that she didn’t really mind what Edward might think. He would be the last person to engage in office gossip about who was sleeping with whom, and as he was still in such denial over his own feelings for Winry, he wasn’t likely to jump to that kind of conclusion to begin with.

“Your secret’s safe with us, Lieutenant,” he said suddenly, as though he knew what she was thinking. 

Such a loaded statement, she thought.  Before she could say anything else, though, Mustang called them over.

“Al tells me he’s been looking over a local map he picked up in Lund. He had an idea I think we should discuss,” Mustang nodded to Al to continue as the other two approached.

“Right.  Well, um, I think the car is pretty much out as a means of transportation. With all the damage,  I don’t think we could fix it up well enough to get it running again, even with alchemy.” When Ed raised his eyebrows, Al added defensively, “You know, I do pick up some stuff from hanging around Winry. I know a little bit about engines!”  Ed punched his shoulder, with an I’m-secretly-proud-of-you-but-won’t-say-so-aloud big brother smirk. “Anyway, I was thinking…there is another town on the other side of this mountain, a bit bigger.  If we stick to the main road, it’s only about 20 miles away.  But it’s a much shorter trip if we cut through here,” he pointed at a spot on the map.

“May I see that please, Alphonse?” Hawkeye accepted the map from him and looked it over with interest.

“And so, I was thinking, once we get to Glass, we could check into one of the hotels and keep asking about our alchemist from there. There are a lot more people in that town than in Lund, and so maybe some of them might know something. If not, then at least we can contact Central from there with an update before we go on to Granny’s.”

Mustang was nodding in approval, and Hawkeye found herself lusting after a hot shower at the mention of a hotel. Ed was more concerned about getting some decent food.  And so they all agreed to set out as soon as they’d all changed back into their still slightly damp traveling clothes. 

* * *

 

It was early afternoon by the time they made it into Glass.

Al had insisted on carrying the luggage by himself (“I’m the ONLY one who won’t get tired!” he’d cried, stuffing a duffel bag inside his armor before Roy could protest). Ed had finally admitted his automail leg was acting up when he’d nearly done a header off of one cliff, after some of the gears locked up on him.  Roy had managed to grab his arm just in time, and they had wasted a good ten minutes arguing over whether or not Ed needed to be carried the rest of the way. (“Who are you calling a delicate little beansprout that’s so weak a two-day-old kitten could knock him out with one paw, you arrogant, self-righteous jerk!”)  

Before one of them ended up with a black eye, Hawkeye had stepped in and firmly “suggested” that Edward either accept her support or let Alphonse carry him. And so, with Ed leaning heavily on Hawkeye and still grumbling under his breath, the group had cautiously picked their way the remaining few miles over the rough rocky terrain.  

Unlike the much smaller village of Lund, no one in Glass paid them any undue attention. The pretty town attracted a lot of tourists, so a few more strangers didn’t draw special notice.

Once they’d checked in to a hotel suite, the boys had insisted that Hawkeye take the first shower. She hadn’t argued very hard, giving in to her own wishes in a rare display of weakness. After their short debate, Roy had handed Hawkeye the same clothes she’d worn the night before in the cave, and given her a light shove in the direction of the generously proportioned bathroom.

Al seemed to feel guilty for not feeling tired, cold or hungry like the others, and so he had volunteered to run out and pick up a hot meal while the other three got cleaned up and warm. Ed, although starving, had opted to collapse on one of the two double beds rather than accompany his little brother, far too tired to remember that he had been loudly claiming to be just fine for the past several hours.  

Roy took his turn while Hawkeye dried her hair and absentmindedly considered asking Al to pick her up some spare clothes once he returned from the food run. She would need something other than Ed’s old pajama bottoms and Roy’s shirt to wear when they left the hotel later, and her other clothes would still be damp for hours yet. Glass was at a much lower elevation than their little cave had been, and so it wasn’t snowing in town at all, but it was still much colder here than she was used to.

Ed was still curled up on one of the two beds when she walked back into the main bedroom of their suite. Since he was turned away from her, Hawkeye assumed he had fallen asleep.  But when she whumped down on the other bed, deciding that she wasn’t moving again for anything less than truly excellent Xingese food or a direct order from her superior, Ed rolled over to face her.  

"Lieutenant? Is it okay if I ask you a kinda personal question?" His expression was serious.

Uh-oh, she thought.   

"You may certainly ask, Edward. Though I may decline to answer, depending upon how personal the question is," she said lightly, trying to hide her discomfort. “Go ahead.”

"That tattoo on your back," he began. "I know you’re not an alchemist, so why do you have an elemental alchemy tattoo like that?"

As the color drained from her face, Ed shifted uncomfortably. And then his face reddened as he suddenly realized the implications of his question.  

"I’m really sorry Lieutenant!  I- I didn't mean to look, but I couldn't help but notice it when you were changing back there," he began nervously, palms outward in a gesture of supplication. "And I recognized some of the alchemic symbols and circles, but I swear I wasn’t _trying_ to see anything, I-I just—uh," he spluttered, but before he could launch into a tirade about not intending to see her bare back without her knowledge or permission, she held up a hand to silence him.

"No, it’s-it’s all right Edward. I know you weren’t deliberately trying to peek; I know you better than that,” she said, and he relaxed visibly at her words.

She couldn’t help but smile at him, remembering how pink he had been when he’d just seen her legs. Clearly the tattoo itself had distracted him from the fact that he was looking at a woman’s naked back at the same time.  How could she have been so careless? Hawkeye bit her lip, considering her next words carefully. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I suppose I shouldn’t be so shocked. Of course you would recognize a transmutation circle right away.”

Oh, god. How was she to explain without revealing too much?

“And…some of the symbols on your tattoo are almost identical to the ones on the colonel’s gloves, so…I was just wondering...why?”

Hawkeye sighed heavily. There would be no hiding that part of it now.

“I told you that Mustang and I were childhood friends, remember?” Ed nodded, slowly. “Well, what I didn’t mention before was that my father was an alchemist. Roy Mustang was his apprentice; he lived with us for a while. During my father’s lifetime, his studies were devoted to the elements, and most especially to fire. The tattoo on my back is…associated with that topic, and contains a significant portion of my father’s research.” She paused again. 

Could she possibly just leave it at that? 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to tell him all of the rest: How her father had bequeathed the secrets of flame alchemy to her, and how painful that process had been. How careful she had had to be to make sure no one ever saw her back lest they guess the meaning of it. How certain she'd been that Roy was the only one of her father’s students worthy of learning flame alchemy long before he had left them to join the military. How she had elected to show him her father’s research after they’d spoken of his dreams  for the future while standing together over his grave. How she had hoped that her father’s dying words about “taking care of my daughter” implied that he’d intended for her to show it to Roy all along. How badly she had trembled that first time she’d stood half naked before him with her blouse clutched tightly over her chest. How many hours they had spent together while he memorized and deciphered her tattoo and ghosts roamed the hallways. How hard it had been for both of them when he had had to leave her again. How lonely she had been without him. How overwhelmed she had felt when she finally saw him again in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle years later. How she had begged him to destroy her back as she knelt beside the fresh grave of an Ishvalan child. How she'd tried so hard not to scream when the flames licked her back, and how h'd refused to continue after the most important parts were burned away. How he had apologized over and over through their mingled tears, how his hands had been so cool and gentle on her seared flesh as he applied the bandages, how he had vowed to make amends for all this somehow, how she had sworn to watch his back and follow him even into hell if it meant he would achieve his goals…

Even her own grandfather only knew about half of the story, although she suspected he had figured out much of the rest over the years.

Ed was no idiot.  He knew there was stuff that the lieutenant wasn’t telling him. 

So her father was Berthold Hawkeye, huh?  The slightly insane but brilliant alchemist who had steadfastly refused to become a Dog of the military, ignoring all manner of attempts to coerce, threaten or tempt him into joining.  He’d wondered when he’d first learned the lieutenant’s surname, thinking it ironic that she worked with one Flame Alchemist and shared her name with another. 

Made more sense now. 

Knowing as Ed did what great lengths alchemists went to just to encode and hide their research notes, he knew there was _no way_ Berthold Hawkeye would have allowed a significant portion of his life’s work to be inked so casually onto his daughter’s skin.  Like he would have just handed over some notes for her to show some random tattoo artist?  Please. And her tattoo wasn’t merely an expression of pride or filial affection, it was far too complex and perfect for that.  Plus it was so big; it must have hurt quite a bit to have done, and would have taken a lot of time t—wait.  Wait.  If that were true, then…her own father must’ve…then _she_ —no, then _her tattoo_ was…Lieutenant Hawkeye had her father’s research notes tattooed on her back?! 

Ed’s mind reeled. 

If that were the case, then no one could know about this.  He could have kicked himself for being such an idiot.  She had the secret to flame alchemy right there on _her back_!  Where anyone might find it!  Well, not anyone, he supposed, and she could certainly take care of herself if anyone tried to…but no _wonder_ she had gone so pale when he’d asked about it!

The lieutenant’s eyes had this faraway look in them, as though she were lost in a memory.  He studied her face, and then felt like a complete jerk for asking her about something so obviously taboo.    

"I'm really sorry, lieutenant,” he said softly. His voice startled her out of her reverie, and she looked up at him.  “I shouldn’t have asked you about it at all, I…I just saw it, and then I was curious, and I didn’t—it’s none of my business. Thank you for telling me about it anyway.”

His golden eyes glowed with sincerity, remorse, and…affection, she realized. And he didn't ask about the scars, for which she was extremely grateful. 

"You don't have to apologize for asking a question, or even for being curious," she replied gently. “But…would you mind not speaking to anyone about this, Edward?” her voice shook very slightly. "It's not something I wish to share." Ed nodded enthusiastically, still ashamed of himself for even asking about her back in the first place. 

“I promise,” he said, for the second time that day. Hawkeye took a shuddering breath, suddenly ashamed at her emotional reaction.

 “I'm sorry; I'm just not used to talking about this.” She rubbed her hand over her face. “It brings back some painful memories about my father.  He...wasn't always the most attentive father, though he was a brilliant alchemist."

"Well, I know exactly what that feels like," Ed murmured even more softly.

They shared a meaningful look, a deep bond of sympathy blossoming between them. Both jumped when Mustang’s voice rang out.

 "You’re up, Fullmetal."  When the bathroom door had closed behind Edward, Riza turned to face Roy. 

“How much did you hear?” she asked. She was still feeling a little vulnerable, and crossed her arms over herself as though to prevent any other secrets from spilling out. A futile gesture, as Roy already knew all of her secrets.

“Enough.” He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed next to her. “You know, we may have to tell him at least _part_ of the rest, just so he doesn’t end up asking uncomfortable questions around the wrong people in trying to dig up the details out of sheer curiosity.”

“I really don’t think he’s the type to gossip…and I trust him, oddly enough,” Riza replied, looking over at Mustang, a little surprised by her own willingness to confide in Edward.  “Strange, isn’t it? He’s just a kid, and here I am willing to trust him with something as serious as this, just because he told me he wouldn’t say anything.” 

“You must be getting soft,” he smiled crookedly at her, and held one hand out, expectant. When she threaded his fingers through hers, he pulled her hand into his lap and carefully examined the bruise he had left around her wrist the night before.

“I wonder just how much he’s figured out on his own already, actually." Riza leaned against Roy’s shoulder as she spoke. He put an arm around her waist and rested his head on hers. "He got really quiet for a minute there, and then apologized for even bringing it up,” she added.

“Well, if anyone knows about what it’s like to keep secrets…” he trailed off.  They were quiet for a few moments, just listening to the sound of the shower water running. "Hey.  You okay?" he asked finally.

"Are YOU?" she gestured to the back of his head. "I'm still mad at you for that, by the way."

He frowned and shook his head at her. "I was still referring to the conversation between you and Ed. The part about my old sensei and his parenting skills." He waited. She nibbled at her lower lip.

"I know he wasn't the best father, or even a very good one," she said. "But I loved him. He gave me a choice, and I made my decision. Maybe I didn’t quite comprehend all of the repercussions of my choice at the time, but I've made my peace with that now."

Her eyes were full of anguish, despite her words. Roy watched her face for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against him. He didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. But he did run a hand over her back, protectively tracing the lines he had memorized long ago. She relaxed into him, sighing softly against his collarbone. And then, without warning, she punched him on the arm.

"But don't think I've forgotten your little stunt back there.  How am I supposed to watch your back when you get in my way?"

"Oh, come on! I saved your life, doesn't that count for something!?"

"I'm not saying I don't appreciate it, sir, but I wish you wouldn't be so stupid.  You might have been killed, and then where would I be?"  He grinned saucily.

"I'm sure you'd make a lovely grief-stricken mourner at my funeral--a testament to what a wonderful leader I could have become, a living portrait of the loyalty I inspired in my precious subordinates, proof of what a tragedy it was that I was struck down in my prime..." his voice had taken on the same pompous tone he often used to deliver his mini-skirt speech, and so she punched him a bit harder this time, then smirked at his stricken expression.  "And anyway," he released her at last, and flopped backwards onto the bed with arms outstretched.  "It wasn't like I exactly thought it through.  I saw that thing flying at you… and I reacted.  I would never forgive myself if something happened to you that I could’ve prevented.”   

"I know," she said softly, watching him. Their eyes locked.

As if on cue, there was a thump on the door. Al was back, with the food.

Hawkeye rose to let him in, casually grabbing her gun from the nightstand as she went.  Ed chose that same moment to walk out of the bathroom, enveloped in a soap-scented cloud of steam. Just as he made to throw himself face down on the other bed again, Mustang spoke in a stern voice that froze him in his tracks.

“You are now one of only five people alive who know about her tattoo, so please keep that in mind, Fullmetal.” Ed’s eyes flashed. He opened his mouth, as though about to fire off some scathing remark, but then just as quickly shut it again. He was silent for another heartbeat, eyes narrowed to slits. Then he answered, in a quiet, firm voice Mustang had never heard him use before.

“Yeah. I know what it really is; what it means. I gave her my word that I wouldn’t talk about it with anyone. And I would _never_ do anything that might hurt the lieutenant, or put her into danger. So please keep _that_ in mind, colonel.” Mustang’s lips curved upward at Ed’s bold speech, and he nodded once in approval.

“I’m glad we understand each other, Edward” He clapped Ed on the back, not without affection. “Come on.  Al just got back, let’s go eat.”


	5. Call and Answer

“I don't like this, Roy." 

Back in his office in Central, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes drummed his fingers on his desk, the cold coffee in front of him long since forgotten.  Roy lay sprawled on the hotel couch, phone in hand, and Hawkeye sat primly in an armchair nearby, quietly cleaning one of her firearms.

"Why the hell do you think I called you, Hughes?" Roy snapped, throwing one arm over his eyes. “I don’t like this either!”

“Look. You’ve discovered that the guy you’re supposed to be recruiting is both violent and dangerous, and the only reason we didn’t know that before is because he has avoided drawing attention from the authorities until now.  He’s obviously up to no good out there, but we still don’t know what his game is,” Hughes replied patiently.

"Well, _of course_ we don’t know what his game is.  With just four men at my disposal, two of whom are children under sixteen, there wasn't much I could do in the way of investigating!  Was there?!" Frustrated, he pushed up off the couch and would have paced if the phone cord had been long enough to let him. "This was supposed to be a simple recruitment mission; I'd never have brought those two along otherwise."

He missed the flash of hurt and self-reproach that flashed across Hawkeye's features.

"All right, all right," Hughes said, placating.  "Calm down. And keep your voice down, you never can tell who might be trying to listen at the doors.  Now, there was no way for you two to know this was going to be more complicated than the initial report said.  It’s not your fault that this has snowballed out of control."

Mustang's head whipped up at the word 'fault,' and he realized belatedly what he had done. He spun around to face his Lieutenant, his fears confirmed by the carefully blank expression on her face.

"Dammit! Hawkeye, I wasn't saying that _you're_ to blame for-"

"It _was_ my idea, sir," she interrupted softly, in that demure professional voice he hated so much.  "I accept full responsibility for bringing the boys along instead of more experienced men."

Mustang spun on his heel to face the window again and thought seriously about punching a wall.  Hughes, who'd heard the whole exchange, cautiously cleared his throat on the other end of the line.

"Speaking of the boys, where are they now?" he asked. Roy flicked a glance towards the bedroom.

"Ed has a tendency to get into trouble if left to his own devices. Lucky for us, he's still exhausted from our hike this morning. He fell asleep about an hour ago. And Al's keeping an eye on his older brother for me at the moment." Hughes smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to meet these boys.

"Good," he said. "It's probably best that they don't wander around town alone. Just because this guy didn’t actually kill you back there doesn’t mean he won’t try to if he gets half a chance. I think you should all stick together as much as possible from here on out.”

“Yeah, I’m with you on that one. I didn’t plan to let them wander around anyway. All the more reason to keep my child prodigy close by now that this guy has seen his face and knows he’s with me…” Mustang responded, with furrowed brow.

“All right. Now, I've got a half-dozen of my best men on the way to meet you. The story is that they are just regular army, on leave, all set to enjoy some R&R at a well-known tourist spot," he said. "They should arrive first thing in the morning; one of them will come and report to you when they are settled.  I’m also sending along the clothes and things you asked for, so you all should be set for a few more days at least.  I couldn't get ahold of the Rockbell girl for Ed, though. Spoke briefly to the grandmother instead, and she had me pick up what I’m told is a well-stocked repair kit. She said that he should be able to do a rough patch job to hold his leg together until you can head back south to his home town as planned."

"I appreciate your help, Hughes." Rubbing one hand over his face, Roy sighed heavily and lowered himself to the couch again. "I'm sorry for snapping at you; I'm just really tired." 

They all knew who he was really apologizing to. Her eyes met his across the room, and she gave a barely perceptible nod to let him know she understood. It didn't stop her from feeling guilty, but she also knew that Mustang had not been trying to blame her for anything.  While the initial idea to bring the Elrics along had been hers, he had been the one to approve it.

"So...how's your head feeling?" Hughes asked, and Mustang snorted.  He shouldn't have been surprised Hughes already knew about it.

"She told you about that already, huh?  Geez, don't go all mother hen on me; it's fine.  There's not even a bump anymore."  Roy was certain that, had this briefing been in person, Maes would’ve been in his face, checking his pupils with a flashlight and trying to feel for the lump under his hair, and possibly documenting everything with that damn camera of his.

"Ok, ok.  Geez, can't a guy show some concern for his best friend?" Hughes was whining.  Roy smirked in spite of himself and ‘hmmph’ed under his breath.  "I'm serious, Mustang, you really do need to be more careful.  You're getting to be just as reckless as the kid.  Listen.  Something about your story’s been bothering me..."

"Yeah?"

"That note. Someone sticks it right in your pocket without either you or Hawkeye noticing, which is suspicious enough—we both know nothing gets by her. And this note lures you up into the mountains…but _why_ , exactly, did that guy attack and then just…run off?  Given that you were out, and Ed was down, he probably could’ve taken out both Al and Hawkeye pretty easily as well," he shrugged, forgetting Mustang couldn’t see him.  "But he didn’t.  He has you right where he wants you, but instead of finishing you all off, he just rabbits…Why?"

"Yeah, I was wondering the same thing, actually. And why would he attack us in that exact spot? We weren't even halfway to the place marked on the map when he hit the car," Roy added. “So if the note was a plant to lure us out there, then he jumped the gun.”

"Once you were down, sir, we didn't have much chance to look around the area,” Hawkeye finally spoke up, finally setting aside her gun, “but I think it is safe to assume that our man was trying to prevent us from reaching the spot that was marked on that map.” 

Hughes was nodding in agreement, able to hear her voice clearly.

"As though you were about to discover something. Sounds about right. Whatever it was, I’m willing to bet it’s long gone by now. I'm concerned that he has an accomplice. Or multiple accomplices."

"Shit," Mustang swore. "I didn't even consider that there might be more than one person involved...you think he was just distracting us; buying time while someone else cleared out. Or moved whatever it was that we were about to find?"

"Exactly.  The reports seemed to imply he was a bully, right?  While not impossible, it would be difficult for just one man to terrorize a whole town full of people.  At the very least, he’s got to have someone who reports to him whenever anyone talks to outsiders.  It would explain why they were so unwilling to say anything about him to you,” Hughes sighed.  "But we still need to know what exactly he has done to them, or offered to them, that keeps them so quiet about his activities when questioned by authorities. The note could’ve been from someone who was too afraid to speak openly but who still wanted to report this guy somehow.”

“And we need evidence before we can just bring him in,” finished Roy, with a sigh. “I know.”

“I’m sure we’ll learn more once you start asking around out there... There are a lot more people in Glass, so it'll be a better base of operations anyway—you’ll be less conspicuous.  And the people there will be more willing to talk about things that don’t directly affect them."

"You think we'll need a cover story or something?  People here are already a lot less suspicious of us than they were in Lund.  No one’s even looked twice at us."

Well, that wasn’t quite true.  There was the girl at the front desk of their hotel who had outright ogled Ed.  Mustang smirked.  Kid hadn’t even noticed her looking, poor girl.  And she had been very cute.

"Hmm.  Still not a bad idea, just in case,” Hughes was saying.  “You can make it a family vacation sorta deal.  Say the boys are Hawkeye’s little brothers.  That should fit well enough with the blond hair and all.  And you and Hawkeye would make such a cute couple!  In fact you really should just make it official already and--"

"Shut it Hughes," growled Roy, tightening his grip on the phone and risking a glance at his lieutenant. She blinked innocently at him, oblivious.  

“Trust me, my friend--you need a wife to look after you. Especially given how reckless you are. Why, just the other day, Gracia and I were talking about what a good match for you Hawkeye would be. Say, does she cook at all?  Well never mind, she can always take lessons from my Gracia if she doesn’t!  And she's such a looker, there’s really no downside in that respect, what with those legs of hers and that—“

“Hughes, I swear to god I will burn all the photos in your office if you finish that sentence,” Mustang snarled, trying not to look at Hawkeye, whose eyebrows were raised in innocent inquiry. 

Hughes pouted, but was secretly pleased.  It was so much fun to tease Mustang, especially about Hawkeye.  And especially when he was safely out of earshot of the over-protective, insanely loyal, gun-wielding female.  Roy was just so easy to rile up when it came to his pretty lieutenant. And vice versa, come to that.

"Ahem.  Well, at any rate, I do think it’d be best if you kept the military connection quiet.  I’ve sent you both civilian clothes only.  You'll be able to get around more easily, and people will probably talk more freely if they don't know who you are," Mustang breathed a sigh of relief as Hughes changed the subject again.  "All right.  I've gotta run.  Call me tomorrow with an update.  And Roy—please tread carefully, and watch your back," Hughes warned him seriously. 

Roy grinned.  He almost told Hughes that there was no need to watch his own back with Hawkeye there, but he didn’t dare for fear it would set Hughes off on the topic of marriage again.

Mustang rose again to hang up the phone, repeating to Hawkeye the details she had not already gleaned from listening to his half of the conversation. Hawkeye slowly put away her guns and cleaning accoutrements as he spoke. When he fell silent again, she lifted her head to find him watching her from the couch. 

"You'd better go ahead and take the other bed, Hawkeye," he said, suddenly sounding weary. "I'll stay out here on the couch. I probably won't be able to sleep much anyway." She wondered whether he was afraid of having another nightmare.  

"You need to rest, sir," was all she said, and crossed the room to sit beside him. He watched her every move, eyes dark and unfathomable. 

"As do you, lieutenant," he returned softly. He cupped her cheek with one hand, and carefully ran his thumb under her eye, where she already knew she had dark circles that matched his. "And if I know Hughes, he'll have one of his men banging the door down at the crack of dawn, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for action. Go on and go to bed, and that's an order, lieutenant.”

"Yes, sir." She rose, and stood at attention out of sheer habit. "Goodnight, colonel." 

"Sleep well, lieutenant."

* * *

 

Bright and early the next morning, just as Mustang had predicted, one of Hughes’s men came knocking at their hotel room door. Mustang quickly briefed the young second lieutenant, and then ordered that he and the other five men in his group split up into teams of no less than two each.

“Twos or threes, however you’re more comfortable. I won’t tell you to be subtle; you’d know better than I would how to conduct the questioning anyway. But I really think it best if no one’s out there on his or her own from here on out,” he was saying quietly when Riza started to walk out of the bedroom. 

She waited, listening at the door. It would be better for everyone if none of the soldiers saw her coming out of the bedroom, in the same hotel suite as her superior officer, wearing one of his dress shirts as sleepwear. It would make for awkward questions, and possibly for more colorful rumors than any they’d dealt with yet. And if it ever got back to Hughes…Hawkeye shuddered at the very thought.

“Yes, sir!” the young man was saying. “I’ll collect the intel from the others by 1700, and then my partner and I will meet you at the bar downstairs to report what we’ve all learned.”

“All right. I’ll let the rest of my team know. Thank you, Crewe, you’re dismissed.” The young soldier saluted, and was gone seconds later. As Mustang closed the door behind him, he called out softly, “Lieutenant?  Are you up?”  He could feel her watchful eyes on his back from across the hotel room.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, slipping out from behind the bedroom door. 

He tossed her a bag, one of three the soldier had brought up with him. Hawkeye had guessed that Hughes would ask his wife to pack for her, and she couldn’t help but smile when she spotted a handwritten note from Gracia on the top of her things inside the bag.  

"So. Do you think we four should all stick together for today?” she asked. He nodded, glancing quickly at the door behind her. “Edward is still asleep, sir,” she murmured in a lower voice, knowing why he was concerned. 

Edward's pride would make him defy the colonel on principle alone, and wandering off on his own was not a good idea. Neither adult cared if Alphonse was listening—even if Al overheard them, he wouldn’t disagree with sticking together for safety, and he could in fact be counted on to keep Ed under control if it became necessary.

“Wake him, would you please?  We’d best get out and moving as soon as possible... Let’s see what we can learn about this bastard,” he murmured absently as she nodded obediently and returned to the bedroom.  “This should prove interesting.”


	6. Jigsaw Falling Into Place

They were lucky. Almost the first person they spoke to that morning was a very talkative tourist. Mustang had casually asked if he knew of any alchemists in the area who could tell them anything about water manipulation, and the guy had spilled his guts.

"Hey, hey yeah!  I totally know about a guy.  But you don't want to talk to him, trust me man. See, this guy, right?  He convinces the shopkeepers there--oh, he's from this little place called Lund, the next town over?  Few miles down the road. So anyway, he tells all these shopkeepers there that he can protect them if they pay him this fee, you know?  Like with his alchemy? He kept saying something about equality, or equivocation or something..."

"Do you mean equivalent exchange?" Edward spoke up.

"Yeah!  Equivalent exchange, that's the one. So you fork over the money, and then he makes sure no one messes up your stuff, I guess, or something like that. And see, my cousin, she had this bakery there. In Lund, I mean.  She couldn't afford to pay some random dude for security, so she tells him no thanks, she’ll take her chances, and then she comes in one morning and finds her oven completely frozen solid in this huge block of ice. Took DAYS to defrost the thing, and then it was permanently damaged."

"You’re kidding! But what happened then? What did your cousin do?" Hawkeye asked in an innocently curious tone, as Ed clenched his fists and Mustang’s eyes narrowed to slits.

"Yeah, it was awful. After the incident, she moved away out west. The repair just cost her too much; she couldn't afford to keep her place up anymore.  Plus she was scared, you know?  If this guy could do that to her machinery, what could he do to her, right?  Like what if the oven was just some demonstration? At first I sorta thought it was just a freak accident, or something, like it'd malfunctioned or broke or whatever, but she wouldn't listen to me. And then it happened again, to some other folks who hadn’t paid either. So my cousin, right? She and her boyfriend just left town one day, just packed up and left. But hey, you know who you should ask, if you want to know more about it?  See that really tall guy, over there in the market, the one in the blue coat? He used to live over in Lund too, only moved down here a few months ago."

"Thank you for your time," Hawkeye said politely, as the others moved away. 

"So how shall we play this?" Mustang asked, half to himself. They paused at the street corner, eyeing their next potential informant, who was chatting with a small group of friends. 

"I have an idea, sir," Hawkeye said suddenly. "Elizabeth could handle him." Mustang smirked, and then turned on Ed, who suddenly had a very bad feeling. 

"Elizabeth, I think you _and_ your little brother should take this. Al and I will wait across the street for you." Ed twitched at the word "little," but before he could launch into one of his I'm-not-short rants, he was being tugged along the road by Hawkeye, who was eyeing him speculatively.

"How are your acting skills, Edward?" she asked, and raised one eyebrow at him. He just stared at her with a blank look. "All right. Then I’m going to have to ask you a favor...It might seem a bit demeaning, but if you do exactly as I say, I’m certain we'll get results..."

Ed bounded across the street a few moments later. 

"Hey mister!" he cried excitedly, all but throwing himself in the tall man's path. The man staggered back a few steps, nearly upending a cart of oranges. "Hey, I heard you used to live in Lund.  So is it true?" The man nodded, taken aback. Those beautiful golden eyes went round as saucers, and Hawkeye had to give him points for sheer enthusiasm.  "Really?! Cool! Then can you tell me about the ice monster? Is it for real!?"

Hawkeye made her move right on cue, trotting over briskly with an apologetic look on her face.

"Oh my, I am SO sorry, sir!  Please excuse my younger brother." She reached for Ed's hand and gripped it firmly, as though determined to corral an unruly child. "He just gets so excited." She turned to Ed and scolded, "Edward, what did we just talk about?  You need to leave this nice man alone, I am sure he doesn't have time to chat about some silly urban legend you heard.  It's just a ghost story.  Goodness, you kids will believe anything, won’t you? Now come along, young man!" 

The small group of people who had overheard laughed a little bit when Ed hung his head as though properly chastened and mumbled an insincere "Sorry, sir."  The man reached out to ruffle Ed’s hair, though his eyes were focused on Hawkeye.

"Now, now, that's alright, young’un.  I can see you're very interested in this…ice monster, didja say?  Well now...I s’pose if your lovely sister doesn't mind, I ken tell ya a bit more ‘bout it..."

Ed looked up, eyes shining like stars.

"You mean you've really seen it!  That's so cool!  Yes, please tell me!"

The man's face darkened, and he clenched his fists.  Instinctively, Hawkeye inched a hand towards one of the concealed weapons under her jacket. 

 "He wasn't really an ice monster, kid.  At least, not the way you're thinkin’.  That sonofa-" he checked himself, looking at Riza as she gasped aloud, feigning shock and dismay. "That—er, _monster_ ," he amended, flushing a little, "was o’ the human variety."

"A _human_ monster?  Oh, but—but what do you mean by that?" Ed had never heard the saccharine-sweet why-whatever-can-you-mean-sir tone from Hawkeye before, and did a double take. She elbowed him, sharply. Their man was eating it up, and rocked back on his heels with a slow grin.

“Well now.  What say we getcha and yer kid brother a cup o’ coffee o’er at the diner there?  I can tell ya all ‘bout it."  He pointed across the street.  ‘Elizabeth’ acquiesced, a little shyly, and she and Ed followed him into the shop and settled around a table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mustang thump Al's arm from their vantage point nearby, as if to say "There, you see?" and she bit back a grin.  It had been awhile, so it was nice to know she still had the skill to pull this off.

"Well," their informant began, once they'd settled down at the table.  "Lemme start from the beginnin’.  There’s this man, Nigel somethin’, come into town a few months back.  Seemed like an average sorta fella- maybe a little soft, little on the quiet side, but he seemed harmless enough.  And at first it’s jest little things... few o’ the kids actin’ jumpy when he comes their way, like he’s gonna come after ‘em or somethin’, you know how them kids can be with a stranger; someone what’s different," he looked over at Hawkeye, whose mouth had tightened just a bit. She quickly smoothed out the lines in her face and plastered a fascinated look on her face instead.

“Yes, of course,” she simpered. 

Wisely, Ed chose to keep quiet. He just sipped at his hot coffee and watched her work. 

"Well, next thing a few o’ the womenfolk start actin’ nervous, sayin’ they don't like the way he looks at ‘em. Nothin’ they could prove, ya understand, or we'd a’ done something about him right then."

"Oh!  You’d have _taught him a lesson_ , you mean?” she asked, in an insinuating tone.

The informant grinned at her.  "Right you are, miss.”

“Goodness, you’re so brave!" she gushed.  If Ed hadn’t known any better, even _he’d_ have bought the ingénue act she was putting on.

“Well, I dunno ‘bout all that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a pleased expression. “But anyhow, next thing this Nigel approaches all the merchants, and threatens ‘em, but not right up front like. In a--an indirect way, if ya know what I mean. He was real slick about it, started talkin’ ‘bout how there should be some sorta insurance fund, that all the local businesses’d pay into, that would go to pay for security..." the man shook his head. 

"Security? Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”Hawkeye was hanging on his every word, her soft brown eyes just as wide as Ed’s had been moments before.  

"Well, that’s what we thought too. Some guy with a crazy business plan, that’s all. And Nigel wasn't an imposin’ sorta man, ya see? He’s a bit shorter ’n average and sorta round all over, with dark hair and whiskers and beady little black eyes--he looked more like a teddy bear than a criminal. But somethin’ ‘bout the way he talked, with that quiet voice o' his—let me tell you, it’d send shivers down yer spine."

Hawkeye made an interested noise, encouraging him to continue.

“So we all kinda blew him off, thinkin’ he’s nutty...but I had a bad feelin’, and so did a few o’ the others. Only we thought nothin’ ‘bout it ‘til a few days later, when one o’ the local restaurants has an ‘accident.’ Now, it just looked like a real nasty hailstorm had hit ‘er real hard, only everythin’ else around was untouched...there wasn't even any rain the night before.  Just these great big puddles on the ground ‘round the place, broken windows and holes in the roof an’ all.  And we remembered that the gals what owned the place were particularly outspoken against him, callin’ him a creep in front of everyone when he was first goin’ on ‘bout his insurance plan." 

Hawkeye gasped in feigned surprise, and the man spared her an indulgent smile before continuing.

"So we was all standing there, lookin’ at it, sorta in shock-like.  And he just strolls up, sweet as you please. He laughed right out loud, and then said if only we'd o’ listened to him, them gals wouldn't be in this predicament. Then he waves his hands, and there was this sheet o’ water, like a tidal wave, that just rose right up outta nowhere! And it washed over their place, and then just...stuck there.  _Froze solid_.  We were all terrified, and I don't mind admitting that to you, miss."

Before he’d even finished his sentence, Riza had flashed a warning look at Ed, who had indeed been about to speak up. He quickly shut his mouth again, trusting her.

"Oh my!"  Riza cried, her soft brown eyes wide and shining, "Oh!  How…how awful!  So he was an alchemist all along, then?"

"Well now, funny you should notice that right off.  The idea didn't occur to us at first.  We've only seen the state alchemists, and this guy didn't seem to belong to ‘em.  All the more nerve wrackin’, when you don’t know how he’d done it. But later, one of ‘em helping poor Maria and Julia with the clean-up found one of them circle things, the ones like alchemists use, carved into the side of the building."

"And he just waved his hands in the air, and it activated?” Hawkeye asked quickly, her voice just a touch sharper. He nodded, looking solemn. “But what did you do then?" she cried, clenching her hands at her breast as though she were really frightened.

"Well, we’d cottoned on to ‘im then. He was blackmailing us, like. Said it was an equivalent exchange-if we paid him, he’d leave us be. Those who couldn’t pay had to leave town, and quickly, else he’d wreck their places.  I tried to scrape together the money to protect my own place, but when I came up short one month...I gathered up what I could carry and I high tailed it outta there.  I'm luckier ‘n most," and here his voice deepened a bit.  He leaned a little closer to the lieutenant, and smiled suggestively. "I don't have myself a wife nor a family to look after...as yet.  So I was free to start over in a new place.  And here in Glass, I've done so well for myself, that I have been thinkin’ seriously o’ settlin’ down."

Ed nearly choked on his coffee when the man casually laid his heavy calloused hand over Hawkeye’s.  She didn't react, but glanced casually at his wristwatch and then exclaimed in dismay.

"Oh my goodness!  Look at the time!  Edward, dear, we’re going to be terribly late!” she said as she stared to rise.  “Sir, thank you very much for the coffee, and for indulging my brother with your exciting story, but we really have to run," she nudged Ed with her foot under the table, reminding him of his "role."

"Right, yeah. Uh…thanks a lot, mister!  I still think it would’ve been cooler if there’d been a real ice monster…but a real-live villain is still awfully exciting!" 

Their host looked crestfallen, seeing that ‘Elizabeth’ really was determined to leave, but accepted her thanks with a courteous bow, and helped her with her coat before she whisked Ed back out onto the street.

As they left the little diner, Ed looked up to Riza in awe.

"You are one scary lady, you know that?"

"I prefer the term formidable opponent, thank you," she grinned back at him. "It's often much easier to get information from people when they don't know that you are questioning them...especially if they are simply telling a story to a pretty girl.  It can be a bit demeaning at times, acting like a ditz, but…"

"Do you guys do this often?" Hawkeye was looking over her shoulder; making sure the colonel and Al were following them.

"Oh, not really. I'm too well known as Mustang's adjutant to get away with it anymore, but there was a time when it was an effective strategy to gather intel." Mustang had also been known to get oddly jealous of the attention lavished on her by her marks, but she didn't need to tell Ed about that. "It can be very useful to have a few trusted spies placed in positions where they can observe without seeming to observe.”

“Huh. So all you have to do is play dumb like that, and then guys there don't think anything of telling a story, trying to impress you?"

"You've got it," she smiled at him. "Come on, let's head over to the park to wait for them to catch up." 

They settled on a bench in the sun, and Riza let Ed do the re-telling of their interview when the others joined them a few moments later.

 “Well, it certainly explains why the townspeople back there didn’t want to talk to us,” Al mused as Ed paused for breath. He pushed a sandwich he’d bought while they’d been waiting towards his older brother, who scarfed it down as though someone were about to take it away from him.

"Huh. I was afraid it might be something like that." Mustang chewed on his lip, thinking.

"What? You mean you knew about the extortion all along?" Ed bristled, outraged that Mustang hadn’t filled him in sooner.

"No, aren't you listening, Fullmetal?  I said I was afraid it might—ugh!  It was just a hunch.  Since the people in Lund wouldn't talk about alchemy at all, it got me thinking—it was because they’re too frightened; they kept changing the topic, remember?"

"Whatever. So now we have enough proof, right? To do something about it?"

"First, we’ll gather the backup team Hughes sent us, compare notes with them. Then we’ll call and update Hughes before we actually go after the bastard. I think we should send a couple of them back to Lund and see if we can get some photos of the damages…we’ll need enough to convince Central that we want nothing to do with this guy; that he’s just a petty criminal with no particular talent. He needs to be brought in, but as a prisoner and not an ally.  We don’t need another Kimbley on our hands." Mustang growled his last sentence, his face dark.

“Kimbley?” Al asked, tilting his head to one side.  When Mustang didn’t speak up, lost in thought as he was, both boys looked to Hawkeye.

“Solf J. Kimbley was a state alchemist with a… _unique_ talent for destruction, a lax moral code and several screws loose. Top brass knew he was mentally unstable, but decided his talent was more than enough to eclipse that tiny detail.” She shook her head. “They couldn’t quite control him, and he ended up killing several generals in a nasty explosion before they finally locked him up. Anyway, sir, there is something else you need to know about ...” she paused, waiting for Mustang to look up.

“There’s two of them,” Ed supplied. Mustang snapped back to attention at that.

“Hm? Wait, are you sure?” Mustang looked from Ed to Hawkeye.

“The man he described to us isn’t the alchemist. There is another person involved who’s doing the actual work.  The soft-spoken fat man seems to be the spokesman only,” Hawkeye spoke up, carefully avoiding the word ‘short’ in her description.  “Our informant said that this Nigel person just ‘waved his hands in the air’ and the building froze over. But there was a circle actually _physically_ drawn on the building; one they didn’t see until later.”

“And you wouldn’t need a physical circle on the wall if you could just clap your hands or snap your fingers and cause an alchemic reaction,” he finished, and shared a smug little smirk with Edward. “So the hand-waving bit was probably just a signal to his alchemist partner to set off the circle he’d already prepared…well, Hughes said last night he thought there were at least two people involved. Now we know for sure.”

“Do—do you think maybe the alchemist is an unwilling partner?  Maybe the other guy is forcing him to help with his schemes, coercing him in some way?” Al asked, hope in his voice.  Mustang shook his head.

“It would be nice to think only one of them were the bad guy, and the other an innocent bystander, but there is no way to know until we have them safely in custody and they can be questioned by Investigations.  Plus, even if that were true, it doesn’t seem as though he has even tried to stop his friend from setting any of this up.  His passivity is allowing this Nigel person to get away with hurting people, running them out of town.  I bet he’s seizing their land when they go…maybe forging documents to make out it’s been sold to him…” and Mustang was off in deep thought again.

After all, Alphonse,” Riza said gently, “It was definitely an alchemist who attacked us back in the mountains. And Edward and I only saw one man on that cliff afterwards.  Any one of us may have been seriously injured, if not killed, by the violence of his attack. I don’t think an innocent man would have done that. For now, we should assume they are both involved, and hope to be proven wrong.”

Edward clenched his fists as she finished, and Al just nodded sadly. They both knew she was right. 

“All right. Let’s get back out there, see if we can learn anything else,” Mustang said. Ed jumped to his feet, and then froze, looking at something in the distance. 

“Hey, Lieutenant…your new friend is back,” he said quietly.  Mustang narrowed his eyes and followed Ed’s gaze. 

Sure enough, their helpful informant was strolling past the park.  As Mustang glared at him, the man suddenly caught sight of Riza and grinned. He started to change course to cross the park towards them. Mustang wrapped one arm around Riza’s waist and pulled her closer. Acting as though she had not seen her new friend, she snuggled into Roy’s embrace, and then lightly kissed his cheek before jumping up and grabbing both of his hands to tug him to his feet, laughing.

“Come on, my love, we still have tons of shopping to do!” Hawkeye bubbled enthusiastically; loudly enough to be sure she was heard. 

“All right, darling,” Mustang replied, in the same slightly-louder-than-necessary voice. 

He allowed himself to be pulled off the bench and flashed a brilliant smile before swooping in and stealing another kiss. Riza blushed and playfully hit him in the chest, giggling a little.  Behind them, ‘Elizabeth’s’ admirer wore a facial expression akin to a kicked puppy. As he slunk away, enshrouded in a haze of depression, Riza couldn’t help but laugh genuinely.

“Thanks for the heads up, Edward. That could have been awkward,” she snorted. “To get away before, I told him that we were late for an appointment. Honestly, I was afraid he was about to propose back there,” she explained to the colonel as they walked out of the park again. 

“He did talk about settling down and try to hold her hand,” agreed Edward.

Al noticed that the colonel slipped his arm around Hawkeye’s waist again, although they were now headed in the opposite direction from Hawkeye’s admirer and no longer needed to pretend. He also noticed that she was not objecting. And that acting like any other young couple in love came effortlessly to them both. Ed, being Ed, didn’t attach any particular significance to such a thing, and walked on ahead of them in blissful ignorance.

Al could only smile to himself and trot along behind them.


	7. The Lost Souls

During the debriefing of Second Lieutenant Crewe and his partner, Mustang and company learned that their mystery alchemist and his partner had escalated from attacks on property to attacks on the townspeople. Crewe’s men had heard the same stories that Hawkeye and Ed had again and again: extortion, threats of violence, destroyed property.  However, it seemed that in the past few months, there had also been several disappearances, attractive young girls mostly (and a very few involving young boys as well), which were followed by ransom demands.  

Even when the girls’ families had paid, their daughters and sisters and girlfriends were never returned to them. 

The people were certain that Nigel was behind it all, but they had no real proof of his involvement. And if anyone went so far as to accuse him, their loved ones suddenly became the next targets. The people of Lund were utterly terrified. None of them even dared to speak about him lest he retaliate. And not all of them could afford to uproot and flee the town—it was often easier just to pay him to ensure their safety and try to keep a closer eye on their children.

Mustang had called Hughes as soon as he could get to a payphone to fill him in. Hughes was very nearly speechless at the news.

“My god, Roy. That’s just—that’s not at _all_ what I was expecting.” 

“Me either, Hughes.” Mustang turned around in the phone booth to keep one eye on Hawkeye and the boys, who were sitting on a bench nearby waiting for him. “No wonder this Nigel guy set up near the eastern borders, though. It must be relatively easy to sell his kidnapped victims to the slave traders in Xing.”

“Yup, there’re tons of brokers who cross the desert illegally looking for ‘merchandise’ these days.  But I just can’t believe this is the first we are hearing of this; it sounds like dozens of people have gone missing in just the few months. Even in a small town like Lund, information like that should have reached the military authorities by now,” Hughes sighed.

“It’s only because he terrorized the townspeople first that it hasn’t. I hate to admit it, but he was really smart about this, Hughes. He showed them all that he could level their homes and businesses in the blink of an eye if he were opposed from almost the moment he arrived in town. So none of them even dares to accuse him, and he’s free to steal their children right out from under their noses without fear of reprisal.”

“I just can’t imagine it, Roy! If anyone tried to come after my Elysia, or my Gracia, I’d-!” Mustang cut him off before he could begin the rant on the manifold perfections of his wife and daughter, and how he would gladly sacrifice himself if it meant they’d be safe. He had heard it all before, many times. 

“I know, Hughes.” 

Both men were silent for a moment, thinking. Each knew how serious the other was about protecting his loved ones. Mustang finally cleared his throat and broke the silence. 

“Here’s the good news: Crewe and his group all carried recording devices, so we’ve got documented eyewitness accounts about this now, in addition to the photos of the property damages from Lund, and our own reports. I’ve just sent copies of the info to General Grumman, and he said he’ll see what strings he can pull to get this to the top as soon as possible. But he also hinted that it may go faster if the requests for revised orders about this issue came directly from Investigations.”

“Gotcha. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, buddy. Hold tight.”

Armed with their new information, it had only taken half an hour for Hughes to call Mustang back, with fresh orders from a general instructing him to arrest the man and bring him in at any cost. There would be no more talk of recruitment, now that they had legitimate proof he was a violent criminal who was most likely the ringleader of a sex trafficking ring. 

“Thank god,” Hawkeye breathed. “I was afraid some fool would still think they could control him.”

“I suppose there’re still a few generals around who remember what happened to those unfortunate few that thought they’d control Kimbley…” Mustang mused. 

“I still can’t believe the nerve of this bastard,” Edward said darkly. “How dare he use alchemy to threaten people like this? And to help that other bastard _kidnap_ people!”  His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides, Hawkeye was sure she could hear the gears in his automail hand grinding in protest.

“And just think brother, we’re not all that far from home…” Al half-whispered. “What if he’d gone there instead of Lund?  Winry’s about the same age as kidnapped girls…suppose he’d-?”

Ed’s eyes flashed, but he grinned.

“No way, Al. Win can take care of herself. Come on, you know she’d have taken them out before they could’ve even thought about snatching her off the streets.”

A startled bark of laughter escaped Hawkeye’s lips, as she remembered the infamous wrench. As three pairs of surprised eyes latched onto her, she smoothly offered up a different reason for her amusement.

“I’ve met Miss Rockbell’s grandmother, remember?  And I have no doubts that Pinako Rockbell would have broken every bone in that man’s body if he’d tried any such thing in _her_ town. Actually,” she tilted her head slightly to one side and placed one finger lightly on her chin, considering this thought.  “It really is too bad he _didn’t_ try this scheme in Risembool first and save us all this trouble...”

All four began to laugh, the tension of the situation temporarily dispelled at the thought of little granny Pinako’s reaction to such nasty bullying tactics. Roy’s eyes sought Hawkeye’s, clearly remembering their discussion of the wrench from a few days earlier. He knew exactly why she had really laughed before. They grinned slyly at each other as as the boys chortled, unaware.

Right at that moment, the colonel’s stomach growled loudly.  He hadn’t touched his food back at the hotel restaurant, since he’d been too busy talking to Crewe to think about eating anything. 

“You really should get some dinner, sir,” Hawkeye admonished. Knowing Edward was always hungry, she suggested that the two of them head out for a snack.  Al and I will wait for you back in the room.  It’s going to be dark soon, and we need to come up with some sort of a plan anyway before we take any further steps,” she reasoned. The boys readily agreed, and so they split into two groups. No one noticed the slender shadow watching Mustang and Ed from the alley way as they passed.

* * *

 

A bit less than an hour later, Ed walked into the hotel room alone, and scanned the room with an enquiring look on his face.

“Hey, where’s Colonel Mustang?” he asked, sounding puzzled.

"What do you mean, _where is Colonel Mustang?!_   Wasn't he _with you_?"

Ed froze in sheer terror at the underlying threat in Hawkeye’s deceptively soft voice.   It was her ‘I’m-going-to-shoot-you-if-you-don’t-explain-in-the-next-ten-seconds’ voice. It had never been directed at him before.

"No! Well, yes, but he….dammit! I knew I shouldn't have listened to that bastard! He told me to stay and finish up my coffee… he said he was tired and that he’d just head back here to meet up with you guys!  It wasn’t very long ago…maybe just a few minutes. But I thought he’d be back by now."  Edward sounded a little confused and vaguely annoyed, as though he thought the colonel were simply playing a childish prank on him.  But Hawkeye knew better.  Her whole body tensed up.

"Something is wrong," she said, worry seeping into her voice. "He never would have left you alone out there, Edward.  In fact, he gave me orders not to let either of you boys out of my sight whenever we left this room.  It's why we've all been traveling around in pairs since the day we got here—he didn't want ANYONE on their own, period,” she admitted, biting her lip.  “The only reason the colonel would have left you is if…oh _no_. That _fool_ ,”  Hawkeye whispered the last words. She glanced over her shoulder at Al, who had jumped up from the couch when Edward walked in, and now stood anxiously behind her.  “The colonel may have been planning to engage them on his own without drawing you into it, Edward." 

She hissed out a breath, and then reached for her guns, checking each one rapidly in succession.

"But...but then..." Ed looked like he was about to be sick.  

So this was his fault?  The stupid colonel had been stupidly trying (unnecessarily, he might have added, but now was not the time for that) to protect him, and now the stupid bastard was out there alone without any backup?  Why hasn't he said anything? Dammit, Ed could have helped him!

Hawkeye knelt to tuck a final weapon into her ankle holster, but looked up at Ed as she tugged her pant cuff back over it. 

"Edward.  Look at me,” she instructed, waiting until he complied. Her eyes bored into his. “This is not your fault.  You couldn't know what he was going to do. None of us could,” and with that she sprang up and launched herself across the room.  “He's just too damn reckless!" Hawkeye cried in frustration as she threw open the door, the boys hot on her heels. She was still seriously pissed off, but her anger was not directed at Ed. Recognizing this, he decided it was probably safe to ask her a question as they ran towards the stairs.

"Do you think that Nigel jerk saw us talking to Crewe and followed us...?"

"I don't think so. I suppose it's always possible, but it's more likely he—or they—just recognized him from before. The Flame is pretty well known throughout the East," she took the steps two at a time, both boys clanging after her. "So where did you see the colonel last?" she called over her shoulder.

"At the market-I stopped to grab some coffee from one of the stalls on the way back. He said he was gonna go back to the hotel where he could get a decent coffee since I was still looking around the different shops and stalls....over there! It was that one!" he pointed to the corner stall, where a wizened old man sold coffee and pastries.

"I don't suppose you noticed anyone following you at any point?"

When he shook his head, she looked grim.

"Excuse me, sir?  I wonder whether you've seen my friend," Al was already asking the vendor in his childish voice. He had pulled out a notepad from somewhere and was showing the vendor a passable portrait of the colonel, sketched in charcoal and complete with cocky facial expression. Hawkeye was mildly impressed in spite of herself.  It was almost as good as Armstrong’s work.  She found herself wondering inanely whether he’d taken up drawing just for something to do at night when everyone else was asleep.

"Yeah, he and the other guy came by just a while ago,” the old man said slowly.

"The other guy?"

"A slight little fellow, thin and pale and sort of…I dunno, colorless? Bit nondescript, really.”

"Did you see where they went?" Hawkeye’s voice and eyes were equally steely. Their mystery alchemist, there was no doubt in her mind. The vendor, though slightly taken aback at her tone, was no idiot. He knew better than to oppose an angry woman, and quickly chose to cooperate.

"Yeah, sure. They went down that way," he gestured with a gnarled paw. “Your pal, he looked pretty green around the gills; was leaning pretty heavily on the mousy one.” He paused, looking from one to the other as though waiting for more information.  “The dark haired boy sick, is he?  You’d best take him to see my niece Val.  She’s the best doc in town, and she’ll have him right in a two shakes-” he started to boast.  Al cut him off.

"Thank you, sir!  We really appreciate your help!"  The other two had already taken off in the direction he had indicated, but Al paused to bow quickly to the old man before running to catch up.

 Just as Hawkeye was opening her mouth to order the boys to leave her and find Crewe and the others for backup, she spotted the young solider across the road. He did a double take when she caught his eye, but quickly recovered himself. Hawkeye pulled up short, calling to the boys, and Crewe dashed across the road to meet them. 

“Ma’am?  What’s going on?  I thought--”

“It’s Colonel Mustang,” she interrupted. “He’s missing, and a witness saw him leave with a stranger. I believe it was the suspect we’ve been pursuing. The colonel may have been drugged or incapacitated in some way,” she filled him in with the details quickly, voice low and serious.  The young lieutenant swore under his breath, and ran a hand through his fair hair.

“All right.  Let’s see…let me gather the others, and then we’ll be able to help you search. Dang it!  I thought he was being a little bit over cautious with all that talk about staying in pairs, but now…I just can’t believe someone _kidnapped_ the Flame Alchemist!”  Meanwhile, Edward was staring at something on the ground.

“Lieutenant?” he said, urgently. Hawkeye followed his gaze and spotted something small and white crumpled on the ground. Crewe stooped to pick it up.

“It’s …a scrap of ignition cloth…” he said wonderingly.

“It’s a part of the colonel’s glove,” Riza’s face had gone slightly pale. Now he was alone and missing at least one glove.

“D’you think he’s leaving a trail, lieutenant?” Al asked, ever the optimist. She was about to shake her head, and then she stopped and thought about it. He wouldn’t have dropped his glove so lightly, and aside from the neatly torn strip there were no other signs of a struggle in the area.  “You know…that’s actually very possible, Alphonse.  Crewe, please hurry and gather the others, follow after us. We’ll go on ahead and see if we can find any more scraps of cloth,” she said. Ed had already run down the alley way, and as he reached the other end, he pounced on something.

“Lieutenant! Here! I found another one!” he cried, triumphant.

“Good. That’s good, it means he’s still conscious at least. Now let’s hope his captor doesn’t notice he’s leaving us a trail of bread crumbs. Come on, you two!” And she set off running again, heart in her throat, praying she wouldn’t be too late.


	8. Mad World

As soon as he’d felt the pin prick in his shoulder, Mustang realized just how stupid his impromptu plan had been. Hawkeye was going to have his head for this one. 

They’d been walking back to the hotel from the diner. When Ed had paused to look at something in a shop window, Mustang’s neck prickled with the eerie sensation that he was being watched.  Causally looking over Ed’s shoulder as though he were interested in the display as well, Mustang had caught sight of their stalker’s reflection in the glass. 

As they’d continued on down the road, the person had drawn subtly closer with every block.   His appearance didn’t match the description of ringleader Nigel…this man was slight, fair and somewhat mousy in appearance.  It must be their mystery Snowball Alchemist, Mustang decided. He’d been _leering_ at them, and when the light from the streetlamps glinted off of Ed’s golden hair Mustang had realized why.  This man was thinking of Ed as a potential victim. Blondes were very rare in Xing, and with Ed’s unusual eye color and undeniably pretty face, he would surely fetch a high price in the black market slave trade.

Deciding that by drawing attention to himself, he might keep the man away from Edward, Mustang made some excuse to Ed about going on ahead to the hotel. He stalked off alone before Edward could argue, ostentatiously flicking his fingers to light something aflame as he tossed it into a garbage can. The man’s eyes had whipped over to him at the bright spark, Edward all but forgotten, and Mustang had cheered inwardly. If this guy followed him instead of Ed, then surely he’d be able to confront him, and keep him from trying anything funny with Fullmetal at the same time. The guy was slender and looked pretty weak, so Mustang was confident in his ability to take him in a fight, alchemy or no. He hadn’t even considered that drugs could come into play. 

As the needle pierced his skin, Mustang had tried to cry out, but found a grimy hand was already covering his mouth. 

“Guess I didn’t really think this plan through,” he thought as he fell. He was caught and supported by his attacker, and he could practically _hear_ Hughes scolding him in the back of his mind: “You just plain _didn’t think_ , buddy. What did I tell you about watching your back?! Geez, if only you were a married man…maybe you wouldn’t make such dumb and reckless moves if you had a good woman waiting at home for you…” 

He had the shadowy impression that he was being guided somewhere, and moaned softly in protest. A sinister voice in his ear whispered to him to keep quiet. He would later recall a vague sense that people were staring at him as he stumbled down the road like a drunk, leaning heavily on his captor. He managed to tear the finger off of his left glove without his abductor noticing anything, and he let it flutter to the ground as they turned down an alleyway. He could only pray that Hawkeye would miss him sooner rather than later. 

He managed to drop two (…or had it been three?) more scraps of the gloves as they walked, but soon his head began to swim.  Everything else after that was a blur, until his face met cold, hard concrete.

Curled on his side in the fetal position, Mustang cautiously opened one eye, and then instantly regretted it. His head was pounding, and when the light hit his eye he felt a vicious stabbing pain rip through his skull. There was only one dim light on in the room, so he had to assume that whatever they’d given him was causing increased sensitivity to light, as well as the odd floating sensation and the nausea he was experiencing. He felt rather seasick, as well as a little sorry for himself. While wondering how he was going to get out of this, Mustang slowly became aware of two voices arguing close by.

“What the hell did you bring him here for, you damned fool!” one man was snarling. The second person whimpered in response, sounding terrified. “I thought I told you to leave the alchemist alone.” The first voice continued, a little more quietly. Mustang shuddered involuntarily at the undercurrent of evil in the soft voice.

“But Nigel…he knows _flame alchemy_! If I can learn it from him, then they’ll come for me for sure!” the second voice said, beseechingly.

“Don’t be an idiot, David.” The first man, Nigel, spoke again. Mustang shook his head, trying to clear the fog so he could listen. “Look, my friend. He’s not just any alchemist. I _told_ you that.  He’s a State Alchemist. You see, here’s his little silver pocket watch.”  There followed a hollow thunk of something heavy being dropped on to a wooden surface.  “He’s here to investigate, to stop us. They’ve figured out about the girls. And now you’ve led them right to us.”

“But—but Nigel! I _want_ the State Alchemists to recruit me! I’ve worked so hard to make sure they’d notice my talent…and I’m so close, don’t you see? This proves it!  They—they must have sent him for me! And—and I—I brought him here so I could show him my skills! But...but maybe he'll be mad abut the injection. Nigel, d'you think he'll be mad? Oh god, I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?!” He sounded like he was about to hyperventilate.  “Nigel!  I didn’t—I never…I shouldn’t have attacked them on the mountainside back there!  This is bad, this is…they’ll be angry with me!  Now they won’t want me!  We need to fix this… _we need to fix this_!”  David’s half mad words grew more and more shrill with each sentence. 

Nigel finally shushed him, and Mustang heard a chair scrape across the floor.

“Now, now, David. Calm down. You HAD to distract them on the mountainside so I could move the girls, remember?” (Ah, so that’s what it was, Mustang thought.) “Relax. Now, you have two choices here.  You can take the pocket watch for your own, as your rightful property. People will bow before us when they learn that you are a state certified alchemist.  No one will dare oppose us then. We won’t even have to catch the pretty young things unaware anymore…they will come right to us!  There are a great many women eager to be bedded by a State Alchemist of renown.” 

Mustang would have liked to snap his fingers and bring down half the building on this filthy brute. But he’d shredded his ignition cloth gloves already to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for his faithful Lieutenant. He had no doubt she’d figure it all out, but he hoped she would come quickly.   Even though she would be supremely pissed when she caught up to him, especially after his strict orders not to go anywhere alone…he groaned inwardly, imagining the lecture he knew she’d have in store for him.

 “Or,” Nigel was saying, “option two. You can simply wait. His friends will come after him. And they will arrest you, or possibly kill you. So. Which will it be, eh?”

Mustang heard the man whimper again, and then the scrape of metal on wood. It sounded like Nigel had slid the pocket watch across the table, to entice and tantalize his partner.

“Come now, my friend. We should move on to another town soon anyway. We can set up someplace new; establish rumors that you are a powerful state alchemist.”

“But…but what about the girls?”

“You leave the brothel to me, David.  The girls are not your concern after they’ve been acquired, remember? Unless of course there is a particular woman among our harem you wished to visit, eh?”

 Brothel?   Harem?  Mustang’s stomach turned.

So. Not all of the women were being sold to Xing…and if he was talking about _visiting_ them, then perhaps he was keeping them somewhere nearby, somewhere here in Amestris; perhaps some of the women could still be saved from these pigs… How could this man discuss the sale of human beings so casually?  And dammit, where were Hawkeye and the others?  These men needed to be stopped!

“N-no.  But…” David hesitated. 

Mustang knew, as Nigel must surely know, that David desperately wanted to request one of the prisoners as his own. Nigel had his partner in the palm of his hand.

“Oh?  Which one of our small town beauties has caught your eye, David?” He couldn’t hide the delight in his voice, even Mustang could hear it. Having something like this to use against David gave him even more control over his partner.

“It…no, it wasn’t one we already have,” David squeaked out. 

Mustang’s blood ran cold. He knew, somehow, what David was about to say before the words even left his mouth.  He knew who David was about to request. 

“There—there was this blonde boy I saw today…” He’d wanted Edward for _himself,_ when he’d followed them back there. It wasn’t about his blonde hair fetching a high price with the slave traders at all—it was lust, pure and simple.  

“Ah, so a nubile youth from here in Glass has caught your fancy?”  Nigel was laughing softly as he spoke.  David thought he was being mocked.

“D-don’t Nigel!  You don’t understand—how can you? You didn’t see him! He was so beautiful! His—he has eyes like molten gold, and his skin looked so soft and—and that face…He was just so young and so perfect!” he wailed, despairing.

“Well, now. Don’t fret, David. We will simply take him with us when we go, my dear. After you dispose of that trash in the next room, we can leave town and persuade the object of your object of desire to accompany us, eh? How does that sound?”

“He—he was…”

“He was what?  What is it, David?” Nigel’s voice was sharp, impatient.

“He was with that man. The one in the next room. They were together.” Nigel burst into raucous laughter again.

“Oh! Even better! Your beloved is the child of a State Alchemist! Hahahaha!!” Nigel laughed maniacally.

(“WHAT?!  I am NOT old enough to be the father of a teenager, you BASTARDS!”  thought Mustang, enraged.  “Just you wait until I get my hands on you…” he thought darkly, his head still throbbing.) 

When he had caught his breath from his laughing fit, Nigel grew very quiet.  David didn’t speak either, but waited for his partner to tell him what to do. 

“But—why?” Nigel asked softly. “Why would an alchemist who was sent by the State to investigate our ‘activities’ bring a mere boy along with him? Could it be possible that they really were just on leave? What if he doesn’t know about—quickly, David. Did you dose him _before_ you brought him here?”

“Yes, of course I did. I—he looked too strong for me to hit from behind, so I injected him with this, and then dragged him the rest of the way...” he replied in his shrill nervous voice.

“Good, good. Then he’s unconscious yet. And it’s quite likely he doesn’t know anything about our girls at all, haha! This is perfect!  David, listen to me! You will do exactly as I say!” he thundered.  David whimpered, and probably cringed at his partner’s harsh tone. Mustang strained to hear them from his place on the floor, and kept his body perfectly still lest they suspect he was not as unconscious as they hoped. “You wanted him to teach you something about fire, right?”

“Flame alchemy, Nigel.”

“Fine, whatever. We will tell him that he must teach you or else we kill his son. And once you have been told what you need to know, we’ll dispose of him and collect the boy.  The boy will be told that we can take him to his father, and will surely come quite willingly.  I think you said there was a blonde woman with them before, yes? Perhaps it was the child’s mother…if she is with the boy, and she comes along, then surely we can get a good price for her in Xing, regardless of her age. Normally they prefer them younger…but she is a blonde after all, and the traders do go wild over the pretty blonde ones,” and here Nigel began to laugh again.   

That son of a bitch.  How dare he even entertain the _idea_ of putting his filthy hands on Riza?  At that moment, for that threat alone, Mustang wanted nothing more than to tear the bastard apart with his bare hands. 

Even as he began to struggle to rise, to get on to his feet in order to act on his rage, Mustang knew that he couldn’t act just yet. He was responsible for all the others—the missing girls and boys, stolen from their families and held captive, or sold as slaves to a foreign country by the disgusting monster in the next room.  He had to think of them. He had to find out where this man was keeping the ones he hadn’t yet sold, and who had purchased the others. Thwarting their little plans would be the best way to get revenge for the vile ideas they entertained about Lieutenant Hawkeye. And Edward, too. 

So Mustang forced himself to stay limp when the door was thrown open.  Feet clad in heavy boots clomped across the room, and then kicked him sharply in the ribs.  He gasped but did not cry out.

“Wake up, flame alchemist,” Nigel said softly, his lips an inch from Mustang’s ear. Then, without warning, he yanked Mustang upright by his shirt collar and half dragged him back to the other room. “David, hurry up with your damn circles already,” he snarled, and threw Mustang to the ground again. Mustang groaned and managed to pull himself to his hands and knees. His head was still throbbing, but most of the other effects of the drugs had worn off by this point. He was no longer nauseous, at least, and he could look around without making the room spin. 

They were in a warehouse of some sort. The ground was just cold concrete, and there were exposed air ducts and electrical wires above their heads. Lights were suspended above them on cables as well, and metal stairs on either end of the room led to a network of catwalks that formed a second floor. Large round marks on the concrete floor indicated that there had once been containers or vats of some kind, which were supervised from above. Whatever they’d once held, they’d been moved out of the building long ago. 

Everything about the place screamed derelict, abandoned warehouse. There was only one table, with two chairs, sitting close to the small anteroom (an old office, maybe?) where they’d been keeping Mustang. David was on his hands and knees with a piece of chalk in his hand, rapidly tracing out circles on the other side of the room. Mustang rose unsteadily to his feet and felt in his pocket for the lighter he’d stuffed into his pants pocket only that morning.

It was a small silver lighter, one that Havoc had left behind one night.  Mustang had grabbed it on his way out, intending to give it back to his chain-smoking Second Lieutenant in the morning, and then simply forgotten about it.  Hawkeye had laughingly told him he ought to hang onto it for the next time his gloves got too wet to produce sparks. The only thing he would need now was a circle of his own…

As he looked around frantically for something he could use to draw one, Nigel settled back down at the table with a lazy, self-satisfied expression on his face. He was saying something to Mustang, repeating the story about killing his “son” if Mustang didn’t cooperate and setting them both free if he did, blah blah, blah.  Mustang ignored him, having heard the fake story already. 

“So what do you say, my dear little flame alchemist?” Nigel finished at last, his smile cruel. Roy’s eyes flashed.

“What do I say?” He repeated. “Well. First of all, you’re both idiots. Second of all, there’s no way in hell I would teach anyone else the secrets of Flame Alchemy, least of all some half-crazy kidnapping bastard who’s willing to hurt innocent women and children just to get some attention. And lastly, you can both go to hell,” he replied coolly.  David’s jaw dropped, but Nigel laughed merrily.

“Ah ha!  Our little alchemist’s got spunk!  Hahaha!” he chortled. “And are you going to let him speak to you like that, David?”

The mad water alchemist answered by activating the circle he’d been working on with a high pitched scream of rage.

“I’M NOT CRAZY!” he bellowed, as ice spears materialized above his head.

Mustang managed to dodge most of the ice shards. One caught him on the left side, tearing a hole in his jacket and leaving a nasty gash on his arm. Where the hell was the water for all of this coming from? Swearing softly and pressing his right hand against the bloody gash, Mustang realized that not all of the vats in the warehouse were gone after all. One was still left, right behind David, and it was clearly full of the water that the man needed for his alchemic manipulations. 

A wave of water came rushing at Mustang across the warehouse floor, wrapping itself around one leg and then freezing solid.  He swore under his breath as his foot froze to the floor. Frantically, he tugged at his confined leg with both hands, scratching and scrabbling at the ice with his fingers, trying to pull himself free. David came slowly closer, his thin chest heaving with every breath, his watery grey eyes wide and bright. There was a long spear of ice in his hand, and he pointed it at Mustang’s throat. Mustang looked up at him in shock, and promptly stopped his vain attempts to free his leg. David pressed the point harder against his throat, and a tiny trickle of blood ran down his neck as it pierced his skin. 

“I have _talent_!” he hissed, his breath hot and foul in Mustang’s face.  “You were sent here for _me, right?_!  You—you were supposed to _want me_!  I’m supposed to become a FAMOUS STATE ALCHEMIST!” He was screaming again, with tears streaming down his face. The ice wrapped around Mustang’s leg was slowly creeping up higher, encasing his calf, then his knee, then his thigh—and then there was a small explosion.

The ice shattered with a loud crash, and a cloud of steam rose in the air, blocking David’s vision.  He screamed when a chunk of the ice whizzed through the air and struck him over his left ear.

“Huh, I didn’t think that was going to work,” Mustang said with a small laugh. “Not as precise as I would have liked, but beggars can’t be choosers!”  He had managed, only just barely, to scratch a small circle in the ice that had been around his shin.  It wasn’t ideal, but it had worked well enough.  Now he just needed to make a circle that he could use to evaporate all of the water in that damn vat, and he’d have a better shot at winning. 

David was still on the ground a few feet away, coughing from the steam in the air and clutching his head where Mustang’s well aimed ice chunk had hit him.  Mustang grinned and used the moment to find the chalk David had been using earlier. The other man was dragging himself back to his feet when Mustang’s fingers finally closed over the chalk. As he ran towards the water container and his own completed circle, Mustang leaped after him in a flying tackle. 

“Oh, no you don’t, you little-!”  David was fast, and slippery. It took all of Mustang’s considerable skills in hand to hand combat to keep the little rat from getting back up and reaching his circle. Without his gloves, Mustang was no match for a water alchemist, and they both knew it. Damn it, these two might still overpower him and get away.

Nigel, who had leapt to his feet at the explosion, poised to run away and abandon David to his fate, hesitated now.  His beady little eyes narrowed, he stood trying to decide whether he should help David or not.  Meanwhile, David dug his claw-like fingers into the bloody gash on Mustang’s left arm.  Mustang yelled in pain, and Nigel made his choice.  Walking slowly, he picked up an old shovel that had been resting against the wall and approached the two men struggling desperately on the ground. 

Watching them dispassionately for another moment, during which David bit Mustang and earned himself a black eye in return, Nigel raised the shovel above his head, and then struck. Mustang slumped heavily on top of David. It had been a glancing blow to the neck, but it still hit him hard enough that he saw stars. It was all the distraction David needed to worm himself free.

“I’ll kill him!” He screamed, laughing shrilly as he pulled himself to his feet. “Let me do it Nigel, I want to kill this bastard!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry to break it to you, buddy? But that’s not going to happen,” a smug young voice rang out suddenly. Mustang tried to raise his head.  Edward? 

“Although, my deepest thanks for saying that all out loud for our recorders,” another male voice added, with a little laugh. It sounded just like Second Lieutenant Crewe. “Now put your hands up, both of you, or else my men will shoot you in the head before you draw your next breath. That’s right, that’s the way.” Mustang managed to roll over onto his back, before a restraining hand pressed down gently on his chest.

“Take it easy, sir.  You probably shouldn’t try to sit up just yet. That last blow to your head looked pretty nasty.”  Ah.  He knew _that_ voice.

“Riza…” he breathed. 

He meant to crack a joke, something about taking her sweet time to come after him.  “I’ve been waiting for you,” was what he murmured instead. Not quite what he’d meant to say, on reflection, but it was true.  Hawkeye’s pretty face swam into focus, and she smiled down at him, touching his cheek very gently with her fingertips. Her hands were warm against his face, and she was trembling slightly. “We can’t let them get away,” he managed to say, trying again to sit up. “We have to _stop_ them, Lieutenant.”

“Shh,” she whispered, and held him down again. “The others can handle this now, sir.”

Hawkeye glanced over at the others, and saw that Edward had the two prisoners encased in cords made from steel.  He was livid, screaming something at one of them, and Al was holding him back while Crewe looked on with a horrified expression.  Without batting an eyelash, Hawkeye turned back to her Colonel. 

“Looks like everything is under control here, sir. The prisoners have already been restrained. Look, you’re still bleeding,” she fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief.  As she tore his sleeve to get at the deep gash on his arm, Roy looked up at her, feeling compelled to explain his actions.

“He wanted Edward, Riza. He would have kidnapped him if I didn’t draw his attention to me instead. He wanted me to show him the secrets of flame alchemy,” he blurted. 

Hawkeye chuckled, a low throaty sound that sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He loved it when she laughed like that.

“Well, he was barking up the wrong tree then, wasn’t he, sir?  The fool should have kidnapped someone _else_ if he wanted the secrets to flame alchemy,” she smiled impishly down at him.  Mustang grinned back and suddenly felt exhausted.  \The last thing he heard before he slipped into unconsciousness was her fervent whisper, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner…and I’m glad you’re all right, Roy.”


	9. In The End

“Excuse me, miss?  Are you the head nurse? ” Thus addressed, a matronly woman glanced up from the chart she had been reading to appraise the young man in front of her. 

“Yes, that’s right,” Nurse Margaret responded, instantly intrigued. It was the golden-haired boy who’d brought in that handsome young colonel just a short while ago; the one they’d told her had been injured in the middle of some heroic rescue operation.  She didn’t know the whole story behind it all, but the night was young yet. Setting the chart down on the countertop, she fastened her ice blue eyes on the child before her, giving him her full attention. “What can I help you with, dear?”

“It’s about Colonel Mustang, miss. They said I should talk to you…You see, he’s my superior officer, and I’m _really_ worried about him.  He only got hurt because he was protecting _me_ ,” Edward paused for dramatic effect, and fastened his luminous golden eyes on hers.  With a pleading expression that rivaled Black Hayate’s ‘please feed me’ face, Ed continued with a slight tremor in his voice: “I—I just want to make sure he doesn’t trick any of the nurses into letting him out before he’s completely healed.  You see…he doesn’t like hospitals much, and he can be really charming when he wants to be, and sometimes…well, sometimes he _flirts_ with his nurses, and convinces them to let him out early,” his words tumbled out eagerly, and he leaned closer to the nurse.  “So what I wanted to ask you was, will you please promise to keep your eye on him, and make sure none of the other nurses let him check himself out too soon?” Ed finished earnestly. 

Margaret melted like wax.

“Of course, my dear.  I will _personally_ make sure that none of _my_ nurses fall for your colonel’s little tricks, so you can rest assured. He’ll be released as soon as the doctor says so, and not a single minute before!” she vowed, tossing her ash blonde hair. “It’s wonderful to see a young man express such devoted concern for his superior officer!  So many young people today are just so flippant and disrespectful of their elders…” and patting his hand in a motherly way, Nurse Margaret marched off to the nursing station to issue orders that Colonel Mustang’s manifold charms be completely disregarded _or else_. Ed turned to greet Hawkeye, who stood smirking behind him.

“I’ve created a monster,” she laughed. “Excellent work, Edward. I knew none of these women could resist the puppy dog eyes.”  

“Not a one, Lieutenant,” Ed grinned back up at her, triumphant. “Every last one of ‘em went for it hook, line and sinker.”

“Wonderful. All right, so between you and Al, we’ve talked to all the nurses that are on shift right now, and I’m pretty sure your head nurse will take care of instructing the rest, given _that_ little performance.  I’ve just finished talking to the doctor,” Hawkeye continued, “And Alphonse just went down to talk to the security guards to ask them to be on the lookout in case the colonel tries to slip out on his own.”

“I can’t think of anything we’ve missed…”Edward mused. “So now Colonel Mustang should have no choice but to stay put and recuperate.” Hawkeye smiled fondly at the young alchemist as they walked together back into the colonel’s private room.

“We can’t have Colonel Mustang wandering off on his own again, that’s for certain,” she sighed, settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs by Mustang’s bedside.  Ed strolled over to the window and opened the curtains so that he could look out at the dark night sky.  Hawkeye knew he would never say it aloud, but she could tell that Edward really _had_ been worried about the colonel, just as he’d told that nurse.  Mustang could’ve gotten himself killed back there.  She watched her sleeping colonel as his chest rose and fell with his every breath, and tried not to think about what would’ve happened if they‘d been just a few minutes later in finding the right warehouse. 

“He’s very lucky the crazy one wanted to learn flame alchemy, or they probably would’ve just killed him right there and skipped town,” she finally said softly, breaking the silence. Ed growled slightly and crossed the room again to drop into the chair beside her.

“That crazy, perverted _bastard_ ,” he snarled vehemently, his face darkening. Hawkeye looked up sharply, surprised by his tone. There was a story here.

“Edward?  I meant to ask you earlier…what did that alchemist say to you back there that prompted you to bind him in steel cords? I thought that Second Lieutenant Crewe had them both covered; that neither one was going anywhere. You looked pretty upset when I looked up next. What happened?”  Edward looked away, staring in the direction of the window.

“I suppose you could say he…he made a pass at me.  Said I was _pretty_ , and then…” Ed fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with this topic. “He, er… _propositioned_ me.  I suppose I overacted a little, but what the creep said…even Crewe was totally shocked by it,” Edward mumbled, a little defensively.  A shiver ran down Hawkeye’s spine as she wondered how explicit the man had been if his words had even shaken an experienced soldier like Lt. Crewe.  Then her eyes widened in realization.

“So that’s what Mustang meant,” she murmured, half to herself.  Ed looked up again at that, meeting her eyes at last. “Right before he passed out,” she explained before he could ask, “Colonel Mustang told me that David wanted _you_ …I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it was the excuse he gave me for running off on his own; he was trying to divert David’s attention away from you. I assumed at the time he meant for the slave trade, but apparently his designs were a bit more...personal in nature.” 

“So…that bastard really _did_ get hurt because he was trying to protect me,” Edward said softly. “He got the creep to follow _him_ so that he wouldn’t come after _me_.  And I didn’t even notice. Damn it,” he huffed out a breath, an almost-laugh. “Now I feel guilty for letting him walk off like that, without even considering that he might be putting himself at risk for me. I guess this means I owe him one now, huh? That jerk,” he grumbled.  Hawkeye rested one slender hand very lightly on his back.

“That’s just the sort of man he is, Edward. Colonel Mustang has always been willing to risk his own life to protect his subordinates.” They were quiet for a moment longer before Hawkeye spoke again. “Anyway. He’s still a reckless idiot, and he’ll be hearing about it as soon as he’s conscious again.  Couldn’t hurt to deflate that giant ego of his just a bit,” she declared dryly. She was rewarded with a startled laugh.

“You really are a scary woman, Lieutenant,” Edward said with a bright smile. 

They were both still laughing when Al returned from his errand. He convinced them to go back to the hotel to get some sleep while he watched over Mustang, as it was unlikely he would wake before morning anyway.

Mustang woke up just before dawn the next morning, and learned from his sentinel that he was obliged to spend two whole days in the hospital. In addition to numerous relatively minor cuts and abrasions, (including that nasty and very deep gash on his arm), he had a few bruised ribs, a sprained ankle, and a nasty knot on the back of his head.  His doctor was extremely concerned that he’d suffered two head wounds in the space of a week, and she wanted to keep him for observation just to be sure everything was all right, Al explained.

While they waited for Lieutenant Hawkeye and Edward to come back, Al filled Colonel Mustang in on what had happened the previous evening after he’d passed out. 

Hawkeye had stayed with her colonel to wait for a medical team to arrive, while the others had fanned out and searched the adjacent warehouses.  They’d found the missing girls right away, though Nigel and David had kept only the prettiest ones, since they were planning to open up a brothel as soon as they’d moved to the next town.  The girls had all been drugged and kept in makeshift cages like animals.  None had been seriously harmed or sexually assaulted as of yet, though, and were only cold, disoriented, and frightened. Only six victims had actually been sold as slaves to the Xingese traders. Hughes was tracking them all down even now, and was making arrangements to return them to their families. All six had been purchased by wealthy noble clans as household servants, and so negotiations for their return shouldn’t be too difficult. 

As Al finished this unofficial report, Second Lieutenant Crewe dropped by the hospital with his partner, in order to take down Mustang’s official statement for the finalized reports to send in to Hughes.  He’d had some good news—he’d learned from a friend of his who worked in a highly placed general’s office (whom he refused to name lest she get in trouble) that commendations had been placed in all of their official files, praising them for solving the case so quickly, and for bringing such a violent criminal to justice.

Hawkeye and Edward had arrived shortly thereafter, and Hawkeye lost no time in delivering the dreaded lecture about how foolish he’d been, allowing Ed to chime in a few times with his “stop treating me like a child” rants (“What kind of naïve idiot do you think I am anyway, you bastard?  Like I’d just go skipping off arm in arm with the first creep who offered me candy or something?!  Give me a freakin’ break!  And don’t go thinking I owe you for anything; I could’ve fought them just fine on my own! In fact, I could’ve _beaten_ them on my own, since _my_ alchemy doesn’t depend on my not getting WET!”) Lt. Crewe and his partner had sniggered into their sleeves, not bothering to hide their mirth.  Al had been torn between his own amusement and horror over their blatant disrespect for a superior officer, but on catching sight of Hawkeye’s mischievous grin, he’d finally given in to the former, his gentle laughter echoing a bit in his armor. 

The yelling and laughter finally drew the attention of the nurse, who threatened to throw them all out if they didn’t keep it down so the injured man could rest. At her appearance, Mustang had instantly turned on the charm. She’d threatened to sedate him, which had set the whole group off laughing again.

Finding the entire nursing staff impervious to his allure, Mustang was baffled. No amount of cajoling or threatening would change Hawkeye’s stance on the subject of getting out of the hospital, either. It was only much later that Mustang realized that the Elric brothers had teamed up with Lieutenant Hawkeye to beguile all of the nurses before he’d ever even regained consciousness.

At last, the whole group had decided to go out for something to eat and left Mustang to rest.  Hawkeye, of course, stayed behind to make sure the colonel didn’t try anything in her absence, and so Edward promised to bring her back some food later.  Once the others had all filed out of the room, laughing and joking all the while, Mustang sighed heavily in relief. Hawkeye waited until all the footsteps had died away before moving to sit on the edge of his hospital bed and reaching for his hand.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, sir.”

Anyone else might have been surprised by the trembling passion in her voice, but Mustang knew all too well the depth of emotion that Riza hid under her stoic professionalism on a daily basis.  He laced his fingers through hers.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I honestly couldn’t think of any other way. If you’d seen the way that man was leering at Fullmetal…I just kept thinking about what happened to all those young women…” he trailed off, shaking his head in disgust. His face had turned quite pale, and Riza knew how exhausted he must be from all the excitement of the day.  He’d probably fall back asleep soon, she thought, her eyes softening.

“Promise me that you won’t do something like that again?” she murmured, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He grabbed her hand and brought it gently to his lips before answering.

“I promise that I won’t ever let myself get captured while in the middle of an investigation by using myself as bait to lure a dangerous and completely bat-shit crazy alchemist away from one of my subordinates with whom he had an unhealthy fixation, ever again,” he smirked, closing his eyes. She hit his good arm lightly, but she couldn’t help but chuckle in spite of herself.

“All right, then I suppose that will have to suffice. Now, you really should get some sleep, sir,” she admonished as he fought to keep his eyes open.

“Mmm. Will you stay with me, Riza?” he slurred sleepily.

“Always, Roy,” she whispered. And she pressed her lips to his forehead as he closed his eyes again with a soft smile.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

By the time they’d reached Risembool, the rough patch-up job on Ed’s automail leg had finally reached its limit.  He’d limped all the way from the train station, steadfastly refusing to be carried or to even consider bumming a ride from any of the passing villagers with vehicles. Mustang, as obstinate as his young subordinate, limped right alongside the teen on his still-swollen sprained ankle. Alphonse and Hawkeye followed a few steps behind them, exchanging exasperated looks with every muffled curse as one or the other stubborn state alchemist jarred or tweaked something along the rough road.  

As they drew nearer to the Rockbell home, Al grew visibly nervous. 

“Brother, maybe you should let me carry you just this last little bit…maybe she won’t be as mad if she thinks you’re seriously injured…” he’d timidly suggested. 

Edward had scoffed and tossed his head proudly. Mustang, thinking of the wrench and wondering exactly how good the young woman’s aim really was, suddenly decided maybe he needed Hawkeye’s help after all. He let the two brothers go on ahead, arguing in hushed voices all the way, and leaned against his lieutenant as the pretty farmhouse loomed nearer.

“You’re just afraid she’ll miss him and hit you, aren’t you?” she’d murmured with a grin, arm around his waist.  “Coward.”

But her playful grin quickly disappeared as a bloodcurdling shriek rent the peaceful quiet of the country lane. Colonel and Lieutenant both froze in their tracks, absolutely shocked and clinging to each other reflexively.

“WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PRECIOUS AUTOMAIL?!  WHAT?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN _, IT’S BROKEN_?!?!?!!”

They could see Edward on the road ahead, doubled over and clutching his head. Al was saying something in a high pitched, pleading tone, his hands outstretched in supplication, hovering over his injured brother. And a pretty little blonde was stomping over to the pair of them with a murderous look on her face. Before either Mustang or Hawkeye had decided how to react, a woman’s voice spoke up from somewhere near Hawkeye’s hip. 

“Trust me; it’s better to just leave them to it.  Why don’t you two come on inside, I’ll make us some tea and get something to put on that ankle of yours,” Pinako said serenely, puffing her pipe.  Ed had leapt to his feet by this time, and he and Winry were both yelling now, pink in the face and gesturing wildly.  A distressed Alphonse was still trying to reason with them both while preventing Winry from whacking Edward again with the wrench. “You’ll be staying the night here, of course,” Pinako continued placidly, walking past the trio without so much as a glance in their direction, “I’m making beef stew for supper,” she added as she disappeared inside the house.  Mustang turned to Hawkeye, dumfounded. 

“Think it’s too late to make a break for it, Lieutenant? I bet we could outrun the wrench.”

“The next train to Eastern HQ doesn’t come through until tomorrow, or I would be tempted, sir,” Hawkeye replied, resigned. She put the gun away that Mustang hadn’t even noticed she’d drawn. At that exact moment, Winry realized that she had guests aside from Edward and Alphonse.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye?  Oh, it _is_ you!  I didn’t realize you were here as well; please forgive my rudeness for not greeting you before now. It’s lovely to see you again!” she cried, bounding away from a flabbergasted Edward to grasp Hawkeye’s hands in her own.  “And you too, Colonel Mustang!  Please come in, both of you. Will you be staying for a while?” She addressed her last comment to Hawkeye, and continued chattering away as happily and innocently as any young girl. 

All thoughts of retribution for busted automail masterpieces apparently banished, she led the older woman into the house. And Riza followed her calmly, without betraying any surprise at Winry’s sudden shift from enraged weapon-wielding harpy to cheerful country maiden greeting an old acquaintance. All three men stared after them in shock. 

Alphonse recovered first.

“Why have we never thought of bringing along another person to distract Winry, brother? Did you see how quickly she reacted to Lieutenant Hawkeye? That was amazing…”

“Hawkeye _is_ pretty amazing,” Mustang agreed affectionately. “And a great person to have nearby when you’re in a rough spot, that’s for sure. After all, she’s one of my most precious subordinates.” 

With that, he followed the women into the house, still limping a little on his sore ankle.  Edward rubbed the lump on his head and trotted after him with a shrug.  Al stood outside for just a moment longer.

“Precious, huh?”  And his eyes glowed bright.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one that was originally posted to ff.net. This was my very first multi-chapter story, and actually the one that made me bite the bullet and create an account to begin with, even though it wasn't the first one I posted. I'm posting it here without any additional editing. Enjoy!


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